


Go Lions!

by cecelej



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Baseball, Cheerleaders, Depressed Lance, F/M, Football, Go Lions!, M/M, Mentions of Stalking, Multi, Polyamory, Polydins, Slow Burn, Sports, vague mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecelej/pseuds/cecelej
Summary: Lance, a college baseball player, doesn't think that cheerleading is a sport. His hero, Shiro, an ex-football star, challenges him to try out for the team and see if he can bring it.Wait until Lance finds out that his biggest baseball rival, Keith, is a cheerleader too.  This is a college/cheerleading AU but it's not a part of my multi-story college au series! It's just a separate au that I got excited about haha





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, challenging the idea that Cheerleading isn't a sport via a Voltron Cheerleading AU.  
> Enjoy!

“I just don’t get it!” Lance said, his voice squeaking. He cleared his throat and side eyed Hunk to see if the squeak had been caught, but Hunk peered over the stack of mats that they hid behind, seemingly not paying attention to Lance at all. 

Hunk bopped his head to the sugary beats that played loudly in the gym. He was watching as, in front of the stacked mats, a team was shouting, dancing, and throwing their teammates into the air. He sucked in a big gasp when a girl came close to hitting the floor. Lance whipped his head back toward the team practice just in time to see the three that’d thrown her grasping to set her down gently. 

The music cut dramatically and a murmur swept over the team. 

“OKAY!” A loud female voice cut through the crowd, “TAKE FIVE! I DON’T WANT ANYONE GETTING HURT OUT THERE!”

Lance and Hunk both watched as the loud girl walked down the center of the gym, the team parting for her. Her hair was silver and looked extremely light against her dark skin. As she walked, it swished in a high ponytail that brushed her shoulder blades. Although unnatural, it complemented her narrow face. 

She was making a B-line toward the girl who’d almost been dropped. Her group hadn’t stopped working, their heads bowed close together. Lance wondered what they could possibly be talking about. There was only one thing he would have said to them ‘Catch her better.’ Was there anything else to it?

“BASES!” The silver haired girl called as she approached the group. The three catchers turned to her in near unison. “What is our motto?” 

“Nobody hits the floor!” The three said loudly in unison. 

Lance jabbed Hunk in the side and pointed to one of the three bases. 

“Look!” He said in a stage whisper. He had to be quieter now that the music was off, not wanting his voice to echo in the gym. This was an incognito mission, after all. “That’s him! It’s TRUE! I can’t believe it!” 

They watched as the base, a tall, broad man began speaking with the silver haired girl. His hair almost matched hers, a white patch of hair sat over his forehead, but a crop of black surrounded the fringe of white. The lower half of his head was shaved close, giving off a warm grey effect, three toned hair. Lance had to give him props for pulling off the brave trend flawlessly. 

“Lance,” Hunk groaned, turning to Lance. “Why are we here? We heard those football guys talking about it. They said he was on the cheer team now.” 

“I had to see it for myself, Hunk! I had to SEE that TAKASHI SHIROGANE had left football for the pep-ettes!” Lance said. In his haste to remind Hunk of the importance of the situation, he had forgotten about their low profile. He cringed as he heard his voice echo around the room. 

Peering over the mats to check if anyone else had noticed, Lance immediately met eyes with Takashi Shirogane. Worse than that, as his eyes shifted a tick to the right, he met the piercing blue eyes of the silver haired girl. 

“Lance,” Hunk whined nervously, a warning to escape the situation ASAP. But the silver haired girl was already strutting to their perch. 

“HEY!” She shouted. “Who are you?! How did you get in here?!” 

It was already too late to escape, so Lance did what he did best. He bluffed. He stood tall from where he was crouched, a slick and condescending smirk on his face. 

“Psh! How did I get in here?” He said, elbowing Hunk, who had risen nervously next to him, as if saying ‘can you believe this?’ 

Lance couldn’t tell her that he’d slipped in behind one of the scantily clad girls and then returned to let in his male friend so they could check up on a member of the team who they didn’t know personally. That sounded creepy. 

“I’ve had access to this building for weeks!” Lance lied. Hunk buried his face into his hand, embarrassed. 

“No! No, he hasn’t!” Hunk corrected immediately. He couldn’t even bare to look at the disturbed female faces in the crowd. “He snuck in to see if it was true that Takashi Shirogane left the football team to join, well, this team.” 

“And you? What are you doing here?” Another female voice asked. Neither Lance nor Hunk had noticed the girl sitting behind a desk along the wall closest to them. Hunk blushed when he saw her. She was dark skinned, tall, and beautiful. Her dark hair was tied into four fluffy buns on top of her head. And although the rest of the girls were in their practice tank-tops and shorts, free of all jewelry, she wore jeans and a team jacket. She also had large silver hoop earrings hanging from her ears. She blushed under Hunk’s prolonged stare. 

“He’s my wingman,” Lance said proudly. “Even though he just sold me out,” he muttered loud enough for only Hunk to hear. 

“This is a closed practice,” the silver haired girl said. 

“Says who?” Lance talked back. 

“Says ME,” the girl said. “I’m the Team Captain. Leave. Now.” She was seething with anger now, although she tried not to show it. Her neck was strained tightly and her teeth were clenching and unclenching rhythmically. 

“Uh, Allura?” Takashi Shirogane said, stepping up beside them. “I’ll walk them out. Why don’t you run the dance again? I’ll be right back.” 

 

/ / 

 

Lance was in awe, staring up at the bulky man who was leading Hunk and himself away from the rest of the group. 

“So, you’re interested in cheerleading?” Shirogane asked Lance and Hunk with a smile. 

“ME? Interested in cheerleading?!” Lance scoffed. “No way! I’m a baseball player. I’m the team’s best pitcher!” 

“The team’s only pitcher,” Hunk mumbled before cutting him off. “I’m Hunk. This is Lance.” 

“You can call me Shiro,” Shiro answered, meeting Hunk’s handshake halfway as they walked. 

“Shiro,” Lance said. He practically had stars in his eyes. His idol was talking to him, telling him his preferred name. Then he remembered that Shiro had disappeared from the football team more than a year ago. He remembered that his hero had turned into a sports groupie. “What happened to you, man? I didn’t believe it, but you’re here, on the cheer squad? They brainwashed you, didn’t they?” 

Shiro blushed and looked away. Hunk elbowed Lance hard in the side, giving him a hard look. Lance shrugged his shoulders. 

“I didn’t really vibe with the football team,” Shiro said, looking back at the two boys. He was still blushing, but he was smiling too.

“So you went for the cheerleading team?” Lance pushed. “V.U. has like nine hundred sports and you chose none of them? You decided to be a fan? Instead of a hockey player or a baseball player or anything else? This has got to be a cake walk for you!” 

“Listen,” Shiro said. He stopped abruptly and both Hunk and Lance stopped a step ahead of him in confusion. Lance turned to face Shiro and could tell that he was agitated. “I can tell that you’re one of those people who doesn’t think that Cheerleading is a sport, but I’ve never been more challenged than I have been on this team. Not to mention, everyone on this team, they’re all spectacular people. You think you’re too good for it? Try out for the team.” 

Shiro continued toward the door and Hunk followed. At first, Lance had to wait for what Shiro said to soak in. Then, he was running to catch up, and ready to run his mouth.

“Try out for the team?” Lance asked, flabbergasted. 

“If you think you can bring it,” Shiro said with a shrug. 

“OH I can bring it!” Lance said, ready for Shiro to shoot another comment at him. But instead, Shiro turned to Hunk. 

“You should try out too, Hunk,” Shiro began. “Most of our guys graduated last year, so we’re kind of thin on bases. We could use some strong guys to help us out.” 

“Okay! We’ll be at try outs then!” Lance said as if it were some kind of dig at Shiro.

“Good, we’ll be glad to see what you’ve got,” and with that, Shiro opened the front door for them and saw them out. 

“He’ll see. We’ll totally make the team!” Lance said, a smug smile on his face.

“Uh, Lance? What about baseball?” Hunk asked. 

Lance shrugged and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. 

“It’s not like I’ll actually join their silly dance team. I’m just going to wave some pom-poms and show Shiro that I’ve got what it takes.”

 

/ /

 

Lance took a deep breath, his palms sweating the slightest bit. He watched as the small white planet soared away from him, the red stitching catching his attention. His foot fell back to the dirt mound and his arm followed through. 

He cringed when he heard the crack of the bat on the ball. He held his mitt at the ready, in the off-chance that the batter would send the ball back his way. But the ball was soaring above him, way overhead, right out of bounds. 

“Home run!” One of his teammates whooped. 

Lance whipped his head around toward home base. His teammates were getting too good at guessing his pitches. His eyes drifted to his coach in the dugout. He glared back. Lance was supposed to be striking these guys out. They were running drills to improve Lance’s skills. But the last four hitters hadn’t so much as gotten a single strike. Two of them had hit doubles, and now a home run. He groaned when the coach called his name, knowing that he’d chew him out for it. 

He walked back to home, trying to laugh off the chiding comments from the other members of his team. 

“You trying to suck at this?” Coach asked. 

“No, coach,” Lance said, his eyes falling to the side. He’d heard this a million times from the coach, and he knew what was coming next. “I hope I don’t need to remind you, that the only reason you’re here, is because the best pitcher on this team had a discipline issue and flunked out.” 

Lance’s teeth ground together, locking his jaw tightly. 

“I understand, Coach,” Lance said through his teeth. 

“Then act like it.” 

 

/ / 

 

Lance collapsed on his bed, throwing all of his weight against the flat mattresses. He sighed loudly and waited for Hunk to ask him what was wrong. Hunk stayed silent, watching something on his laptop. Lance sighed louder. 

“What’s up, man?” Hunk said, pausing his video and turning to Lance. 

“Oh, nothing,” Lance said, rolling onto his stomach and hugging his pillow in his long arms. “Coach was just on me again today.” 

“Have you started learning a routine for the tryouts?” Hunk asked abruptly. 

“Uh, Hunk, buddy. We’re talking about my problems right now?” Lance said, his woeful expression turning to more neutral one. 

“You said it was nothing,” Hunk pointed out. 

“Well, yeah, but I was going to complain more.” 

“I’ve heard it all,” Hunk said before continuing his previous train of thought. “But a routine, do you have one? I didn’t know we had to have one, but I ran into Shiro today, and he told me that most people have one. Did you know that? I didn’t know that.” 

“You mean other than shaking my ass and saying ‘Go Lions?’ No. I hadn’t given it much thought,” Lance said. 

“Well, I’m learning a routine,” Hunk said, turning back to his laptop. 

“Wait, let me see!” Lance said, hopping up from bed and leering over Hunk’s laptop. 

“This looks so easy,” Lance said when the video was over. He began walking through the motions, but on the third move, Hunk stopped him. 

“You did it wrong,” Hunk said. 

“I did not!” Lance shot back. 

“Yeah, you did. You were supposed to put your left arm up on the third beat, you put your right arm up on the fourth beat,” Hunk corrected. 

“I’ve only seen the video once!” Lance said defensively. “Come on,” he continued, pulling Hunk up from his chair. “Teach me how to do it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Hunk go to cheer try outs where they find a friend and an old rival. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the try-outs episode lol

Allura sat next to Shiro, watching as girls swarmed into the gym. They were required to take in at least five more people to make a full team, but the new recruits were all similar to her in stature and it wasn’t what she was looking for. She was tall and thin and easy enough to throw, but she wanted small girls, TINY girls would be better. Allura wanted her team to stand out, and to stand out they had to do the hardest and highest stunts. She needed flyers. The smaller the flyers, the higher the bases could throw them, the better they could hit their stunts.

“You’re getting that dictator look in your eyes,” Shiro said, lightly nudging Allura’s shoulder with his own. 

The gym smelled of stale sweat and the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor filled their ears. Audition day was second nature to Allura and Shiro was beginning to grow fond of it now that he had earned a permanent spot on the team. 

“I can’t help it,” she said, her expression softening as she turned to him. “I’m in recruitment-mode. I’m looking for the best.” 

“We’ll find the flyers you need,” Shiro reassured her. In front of him was a clip board and a pen that he tapped mindlessly against the table. He was in charge of writing down the names of those who wanted a try-out slot. He ran his eyes over the list, noting the abundance of ‘Britney’s. 

“Oh no,” Allura said, a groan of annoyance. 

Shiro looked up, following her line of sight past the stretching girls to who had just entered the gym. His eyes skimmed up and down the two, tall, tan boys who were meandering over. 

“Not those creeps from the other day,” she said, rubbing her temples. 

Lance, the shorter and thinner of the boys, was leering at the girls around him. Hunk, the stronger, sweeter boy, was making his way hesitantly toward Shiro and Allura’s table. He weaved through the girls, careful not to bump them, whereas his partner brushed up against the shoulders of girls without hesitation. 

“I invited them,” Shiro said, turning back to Allura. 

“You what?” Allura asked, turning on him. She needed flyers and girls with cheer voices that could amp up a whole stadium. She did NOT need leering boys who would make her performances look sloppy and underdone. “Are you daft?” 

Shiro shrugged. 

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I think they’re actually good guys. And we need the extra muscle.” 

“Muscle?” Allura scoffed. “I could be the skinny one’s base on my own!”

Again Shiro shrugged. 

“I’m sure he could be a flyer if you wanted him to,” he joked as Lance and Hunk finally approached the table. 

“Hello, again, Beautiful,” Lance said, leaning heavily on the table in front of Allura. He turned his head to Shiro and winked. “Handsome,” he added, greeting Shiro as well. 

“Hi,” Hunk said flatly, trying to ignore Lance’s shameless flirting. “We were here the other day? Hunk and Lance.” 

Shiro smiled at this, although they had talked once between meetings, Hunk still seemed sure that Shiro wouldn’t remember him. Hunk had even re-introduced himself when asking about tryouts. 

“I remember,” Shiro said with a welcoming smile. He wrote down both names on the tryout sheet as Allura bothered them for more information. 

“And what positions will you be trying out for?” She asked, a cross look on her face. She normally didn’t ask, and Shiro took it as a bit of passive aggressiveness to the boys who she’d already formed an unkind opinion on.

“Whatever position you want me in,” Lance said, a sleazy smirk on his face. 

“Lance,” Shiro warned before Lance could even finish his sentence. 

“I don’t really know,” Hunk said, cutting over them both. “I don’t know much about the sport, to be honest. But we learned a routine. Shiro said most people try out with one.” 

Two things had stuck out to Allura as Hunk spoke. First, he’d called cheerleading a sport. It was rare that an outsider thought that of cheering, and she couldn’t deny her heart always swelled with pride when she heard it. Second, they’d learned a routine. It showed effort that Allura wasn’t expecting. She tapped a pen on the table and stared up at Hunk, heavy scrutiny in her eyes. 

“Lets see it then,” she said, leaning back in her metal chair. 

Hunk’s cheeks turned pink and he turned to look at the groups around them who were stretching or gossiping. Nobody was paying much attention to him and Lance at all, but he still felt like there were eyes on him. 

“You giving us special treatment, Princess?” Lance asked. 

“No. Tryouts are starting. I want to weed out the underachievers before they can waste my time,” she shot back. 

Lance held up his hands in complacent manner, a motion that said ‘calm down,’ in the most patronizing way. Allura glared as he backed up to stand next to Hunk. 

“Ready, Hunk?” he asked. And Hunk gave one more look around before nodding warily. 

“Okay, one two three, go,” Lance said and the two launched into their routine.

It was a lot of arm movements, and not much footwork. They used a basic chant and replaced another school’s name with their own. Allura watched and took mental notes on their performance. It was just a quick eight-count dance repeated twice. 

When they were done, they immediately turned their heads to smile at each other, their bodies relaxed. Then they turned to Allura’s sour expression. She turned to Shiro. 

“Shiro?” She asked. “Your critiques?” 

Shiro nodded and leaned forward in his chair.

“It was good, you guys,” Shiro said. He smiled broadly at them. “It was a little,” he looked over at Allura for approval and she nodded him on. “Simple,” he added and Hunk and Lance’s smiles faded. “But for your first tryout, it was really good. And you learned it in a few days, that’s good.” 

Hunk and Lance’s smiles returned at Shiro’s soft encouragement. 

“Done?” Allura asked, and Shiro nodded. 

“That routine was for middle school kids, at best,” she began, her tone was level and final, like the judges that no one likes on reality TV. “Your elbows weren’t sharp and you, who did the beginning count, weren’t hitting on the right beat. You, Hunk is it?” She asked pointing to Hunk. He nodded. “You looked nervous the whole time. You should smile during all of your routines. The whole thing was sloppy.” 

Beside her, Shiro cringed at her harsh comments. 

Hunk and Lance looked like kicked puppies in front of them and a few groups had turned to look at the two who were being critiqued. 

“Allura,” Shiro said, his voice low and cautious, but she cut him off. 

“That being said, for a first effort, it showed promise.” 

Hunk and Lance’s surprise was almost comical. They hadn’t expected a single sweet word from Allura after the critique she was giving, but her pink lips quirked up in a small smile. 

“I can’t wait to see what else you do today,” Allura finished. Before the boys could celebrate, she barked out the next order. “NEXT,” she called. 

 

/ / 

 

“Lance,” Shiro said, waving him over to the center of the mats that were laid out on the gym floor. The floor felt cushy under Lance’s feet as he jogged over to Shiro, but he wasn’t so sure he’d want to fall onto it. He could still feel the hard wood beneath the mats with every step. 

“Here, we’re going to see if you can lift.” Shiro said, putting a hand on Lance’s shoulder and positioning them face to face. As Shiro’s hand fell away, Allura stepped up, replacing Shiro’s hand on Lance’s shoulder. With her other hand she put a firm hold on Shiro’s shoulder too.

“It’s an easy count,” she explained. “Five, six, seven, eight. Clap, duck, bounce, fly. Got it?” 

Lance nodded as if any of that made sense to him.

“We’ll go slow the first time,” Shiro said, noticing the blank look on Lance’s face. “Just follow me.” 

Shiro looked into Lance’s eyes and began the sequence. “Clap,” he said, his hands clapping together. “Duck,” his knees bent and Lance followed. Shiro put out his hands and Lance followed. Allura pushed down on their shoulders, lifting up off the ground and placing her pristine cheer shoes into their palms. “Bounce,” Shiro said, bouncing Allura slightly. Lance bounced her a second later than Shiro, unbalancing her a little, but Allura had been prepared for it. Her hands clamped tighter on their shoulders, keeping her suspended in the air. “Okay, good,” Shiro said, “We’re going to put her down now.

Lance’s stomach clamped with nerves. He’d done something wrong. That’s why Shiro was telling him to stop. He’d messed up already. This is how it always was. He’d mess up in practice and the rest of the season he would choke at the sight of the same mistake. That’s what had happened with baseball and that’s why he wasn’t throwing the pitches that his teammates needed him too. 

Allura popped easily out of their hands, her sneakers landing back on the padded floor soundlessly. 

“So, after the bounce,” Shiro began, “you have to move your hands around her foot like this.” He moved his hands in a cupping motion and Lance barely caught it. He was too caught up on the fact that Shiro was still continuing his instruction. He hadn’t done anything wrong yet. He could let go of a breath that he was holding. He could relax again. Shiro wasn’t about to laugh in his face. He was fine. He quickly copied the hand motion that Shiro had done and waited for approval. “Good! You’re a natural.” 

“I guess I was just born to support my women,” Lance said, winking at Allura.

“Okay, we’ll run it again,” Shiro said, clipping Lance’s line. “Quicker this time. And we are actually going to lift her. Remember: Nobody hits the floor. We catch a flyer no matter what. Got it?” 

That, Lance could understand. Catch the girl, no matter what. He nodded and they got in position. 

“Here we go,” Shiro said, and Allura began the count. 

“Five, six, seven, eight.” 

Quicker than Lance could process, Allura had hopped into his hands and he and Shiro had pushed her easily into the air. 

Lance looked up to see if Allura was steady, and there it was. Up the long, lean, and tan leg that Lance was supporting, there it was, the pinnacle of the cheerleading attraction. There it was, Lance’s eyes connected to the stretchy gold material that hugged Allura’s curves. SPANKIES. This was it! This was really why Shiro was doing this! He got to stare up girls’ skirts all day and it was totally acceptable! 

Lance’s elbows went weak. Before he knew it he had a knee crashing against his shoulder and he jumped back, trying to avoid any more limbs to his body. He watched as Shiro stepped forward, an arm striking out and catching Allura right between the legs. She winced with discomfort when she landed, a leg on each side of his crooked elbow. Shiro lowered her down carefully, her feet touching the ground and his arm retreating from beneath her skirt. 

“Using the hook on the first day?” A voice called from the other side of the gym. “Didn’t you tell the new guy, nobody hits the floor?”

Tryouts were winding down, plenty of others had left, either giving up or being let go by Allura. The rest of the try out participants, along with the uniformed team, turned their heads toward the door where the voice had entered. 

Standing in the doorway, taking off a motorcycle helmet, was someone that Lance recognized. At the sight of the dark haired boy, a fiercely competitive fire lit in Lance’s stomach. 

“You’re late, Keith!” Allura called back. She put a hand on her hip but a smile was stretched on her face. 

“I hate to tell you, but I already made the team,” Keith said. He unzipped his red motorcycle jacket to reveal his team-shirt. “I had a lecture.” 

“Well,” Allura said with a pout. “Unfortunately, school comes first.” 

“Wait, KEITH is on the team?” Lance said, his voice breaking. “No way! He got expelled! You can’t be on a team if you’re expelled!” 

Keith looked at Lance for the first time. He’d dropped his helmet on Allura’s table and was making his way toward the stunt mats. He looked exactly like Lance remembered, pouty, downturned eyebrows, half lidded eyes, too much dark hair.  
The last time Lance had seen him, Keith had been on the baseball diamond, wearing dusty, thigh hugging baseball pants. He’d thrown his baseball hat at the coach. Lance clearly remembered the coach threatening expulsion. 

“Who is this?” Keith nodded to Lance, his eyes bouncing from Shiro to Allura. 

“Who am I? We played baseball together!” Lance whined. 

“Oh, yeah,” Keith said, a spark of recognition in his eyes. “You were the water boy, right?” 

Around the gym, there were little snickers and laughs. 

“No!” Lance said, although, when Keith was pitching, water boy wasn’t much of a stretch. “I was your stand in! I’m the pitcher now!” 

“Huh,” was all Keith gave as a response. “You need me to run flyers with you?” He asked Shiro. 

 

/ /

 

Lance and Hunk sat in the bleachers, watching as flyers were being put to the test. Well, Hunk was watching. Lance was muttering under his breath about Keith.

“I can’t believe that guy! Walking in here in the middle of tryouts, like he owns the place!” Lance complained. He was sitting with his knees tucked close to his chest, his mouth against his arms. His words came out muffled but Hunk understood.

“Who is he again?” Hunk asked, just barely listening. He watched, amazed, when they lifted a girl high into the air and did a quick basket toss. 

“WE ARE RIVALS!” Lance said, his eyes trained on Keith, the dark haired base, who kept a straight face as the girl came back down toward earth, landing in his arms. 

“Doesn’t seem like he thinks that,” Hunk said. “He barely recognized you.” 

Allura called next and they both watched as a child walked across the floor to the two bases. 

“Pidge Gunderson!” Allura announced, just as she’d announced the other names of flyers.

“Who’s that?” Lance asked, leaning forward. He squinted, sizing up the competition. Pidge handed their glasses to Allura as they passed by her. They wore a baggy t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. Lance couldn’t tell if they were a boy or a girl. “Are they even old enough to go here?” 

From the looks of it, Keith and Pidge were having the same conversation down on the mats. Hunk shrugged.

After Pidge stuck their tongue out at Keith, the bases began loading the auditioning flyer for a stunt, so Lance and Hunk guessed Pidge was a student after all.

Standing in a basic prep formation, Pidge looked bored. They turned their head down and said something that neither Lance nor Hunk could hear but Shiro and Keith nodded. They lifted Pidge into a full extension. 

Then they did something that neither Lance nor Hunk had seen before. Keith released Pidge’s foot, moving to brace the ankle of the foot Shiro was holding. Pidge’s leg went up into their opposite hand, and she brought her other arm across, making a bow and arrow with her body. 

“Woah,” Lance and Hunk said together.

The two bases popped Pidge back down and Shiro gave her a hearty high five. 

Allura called next again and Pidge made her way into the bleachers. Lance and Hunk waved them over when no one else did. 

“That was amazing,” Hunk said as Pidge sat down. 

“That?” Pidge said, sliding their glasses back up their little button nose. “That was beginner stuff.” 

“Beginner stuff?” Lance asked. “You were standing in Shiro’s hand! And then you did that crazy leg thing!” 

“Man, I knew the cheer team was in trouble, but I didn’t think it was in this much trouble,” Pidge said. “Have you guys ever cheered a day in your lives?” 

At that, both boys shared a look. 

“No,” they both replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know if there are any typos!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance makes some big decisions and we learn a little more about Pidge and Keith

Lance stood in the outfield. He tapped his foot in a slow beat and, in his head, ran through the routine they’d been taught at auditions. He counted, and tapped, and watched the ball as his whole team kept it from going anywhere near him. 

There was a week long waiting period until the official list for the cheer team would be posted and Lance found himself counting down the days impatiently. He had been so confident when he walked into the gym the day of auditions, but now, after he’d been through the tough tryout process, he wasn’t so sure. 

He only wanted to make the team to make a point to Shiro, that baseball and football and all the other sports out there were harder and better than the cheer team. So, why was he dying to know if he’d made the team or not? And why was the feeling of disappointment following him whenever he thought of the latter? 

He barely noticed when the rest of his team started to gather close to the dugout. He ran to catch up, coming up on the back of the huddled group. 

He rubbed his eyes as they adjusted from the sunny field to the shady dugout. Coach stood in the dugout with his arm around a scrawny looking kid who wore a team shirt and hat. 

“Who’s that?” Lance asked the player beside him. “A visiting recruit?” 

His teammate scoffed and pulled his baseball cap off. His long, silvery blond ponytail slipped out from where it hid in the hat with a graceful whip. 

“He’s our new pitcher,” the player said. 

“Oh, a sub for me?” Lance said, perking up and smiling. 

“Yeah, you wish. He’s your replacement. You’ll be his sub, if you’re lucky.” 

“Very funny,” Lance said, moving away from the group. He’d meet the kid when the rest of the team cleared out. He sat on his pitchers mound and waited for the hullabaloo to die down. 

As the rest of the team cleared away from the kid, Lance saw the coach waving him toward the dugout. He stood and dusted off his baseball pants before walking toward the two.

“Lance, this is our new pitcher. You’re going to be his sub from now on.” 

Lance, extended his hand, a goofy smile on his face. Then, as the information processed, he tore it away as the kid’s hand brushed his own.

He stood with his mouth agape. He no longer looked at the pimple-faced kid. He stared right at coach and had no idea what to say. 

“But,” Lance began when his lips could form words again. “BUT I WAS HERE FIRST!” Lance said. His whole body had begun to shake. He had earned his spot! He had waited until Keith had left and then had taken his rightful spot! He hadn’t got to play a single game yet and now Coach was kicking him out! “HE’S A FRESHMAN!” Lance wasn’t yelling at coach so much as he was yelling at the unfairness of the situation. “HE DIDN’T EVEN GO THROUGH PRE-SEASON! OR PUBERTY!” 

“And yet I’m still better than you,” the kid said with a vicious scowl. 

“COACH!” Lance called in protest. 

“This is the new pitcher,” the coach said in an eerily calm voice. “You can be his sub, or you can walk. Now go sit on the bench, that’ll be your place for the season.” 

Lance was shaking with rage. His fists were tight and his face was red. He wanted to deck the kid, and the coach. He was working hard for this game, for this team, and no one appreciated it, or even acknowledged it. Sure, sometimes he choked and threw a foul ball or even made an easy run for the other team, but he was trying dammit. 

He then remembered what Shiro had told him, that he hadn’t gotten along with the football team. He remembered the cheer team’s shared smiles and jokes. He had felt a sense of family during tryouts. A new state of calm settled deep into his skin as he quickly decided what his choice was. Impulsive as ever, he took a deep breath and his shaking nearly stopped. 

“Fine. I quit.” 

“Good riddance,” the coach muttered, turning away to the new pitcher. 

Lance wasn’t expecting Coach to break down or offer Lance his position back at the threat of going, but it still stung when he didn’t even fight for him to stay. 

He turned his back to the team who’d already turned their backs on him, and didn’t regret walking away for even a second. 

 

/ / 

 

“Hunk! Come on!” Lance said, tugging on Hunk’s arm as they left the stats room. Hunk was still chatting with the T.A. about his test, his perfect grade test, trying to tell the T.A. that number four was actually worded wrong, and could have resulted in two different answers. And yes, the T.A. realized that too and had graded the other tests accordingly. And it was resolved, yet they were still trying to chat. 

“Lance, what’s the hurry, man?” Hunk said after giving an apologetic goodbye to the T.A.

Lance was ahead of him, still holding his arm and dragging Hunk along with his quick pace. 

“The list gets posted outside the gym in 12 minutes! I have to know if we made it!” Lance said. 

“I thought you said you weren’t actually going to join the team?” Hunk said, still moving slowly, mostly to inconvenience Lance. 

“Yeah well,” Lance said, his excited voice faltering. It’d been three days since he’d quit baseball and he still hadn’t told Hunk. He wasn’t sure if he was hiding it or just waiting for the right time. He guessed now was as good a time as any. He didn’t like hiding things. “That was before I quit baseball.” 

“Wait,” Hunk said, stalling in the busy hallway. Behind him, someone nearly collided with him. They muttered some nasty words but walked around the two. “You quit baseball?” Hunk asked. 

“Sort of,” Lance said with a shrug. He didn’t want to wait around in the hallway and have this conversation. He wanted to be speed walking over to the other side of campus where the cheer gym was, where his list would be posted, where he could find out if he made the team and had something to work for again. 

“How do you sort of quit?” Hunk asked. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and waited, very parentally, for Lance’s answer. 

“Coach gave me an ultimatum. Become benchwarmer again or quit. So, I quit,” Lance explained. He said it flippantly, as if it hadn’t hurt knowing that his whole team wanted that outcome. 

“Lance, what if you don’t make the team?” Hunk asked. He took Lance by the arm and brought him to a little alcove in the hallway, out of the busy crowd’s way. His voice was much more gentle than it was before and Lance rolled his eyes. 

“That was high school, Hunk,” Lance said, knowing what Hunk was worried about. 

“Yeah, and this is college. And baseball pulled you out of your funk,” Hunk said. Lance appreciated that Hunk used the word funk, instead of what it really was. It made it sound less like Lance was some charity case. “What if you don’t make the cheer team?” 

Lance shrugged. “What if I do?” 

 

/ / 

 

Shiro smiled tightly as he pressed through the crowd. It was largely made up of girls whose dreams were about to be crushed. Out of all of the girls that had come to tryouts, only a few of them had been chosen for the team. It wasn’t that Allura was that picky when it came to teammates, it was more that the school was picky about what sports it was willing to cut. And the cheer squad was always neck and neck with something else for the cut spot. They’d always managed to scrape by, but with their scraping and clawing to remain, they just couldn’t manage to pull for more financial support from the school. They were low funded, which meant no new uniforms, no new safety equipment, no training specialists or dietary coaches, no coach at all, actually. 

Allura had stepped up as captain and became ‘coach’ last year when the school told the program to find a member of the staff to be a volunteer coach. When no one volunteered, Allura stepped up. They had a staff member who came to practices and helped in competitions, Coran, Allura’s uncle, but he wasn’t a cheer coach. The only background in cheerleading that Coran had was that he had seen Allura cheer. He stood in on practices for Allura’s sake, so that the team could remain in tact in the school board’s eyes. Luckily, he was sweet and he enjoyed the time he spent with the team. 

Shiro pushed farther into the crowd, girls making way when they saw it was him, Shiro, the co-captain. Then they trailed close behind when they saw what was in his hand. The list. They kept close, trying to be the first in line to see if they’d made the cut. 

Up at the bulletin board that sat out front of the cheer gym, Shiro yanked open the padlock and removed the clear covering. He pinned the list to the board, replaced the clear cover and padlock, and moved as quickly out of the way of the hoard of cheerleaders as possible. Being trampled was not how he wanted to start the season. 

As he escaped through the side of the hoard, he met eyes with Lance and Hunk, giving them a big grin. Lance gave Hunk a hopeful shake, but Shiro was already moving to the side of the building.

Along with the few that would be welcomed to the team, Allura had allotted two spots for guys. Two spots that had been filled. 

 

/ / 

 

Pidge popped up beside Shiro as he walked to the back door of the cheer gym. She liked the effect her surprise appearances gave. The little shocked looks that people gave her when she popped up randomly made her grin. She’d known Shiro for 3 years, and she’d never gotten that response from him. He always looked down at her like he’d heard her approaching for the past three miles. 

It was no different this time. 

“Hey!” She said, loudly. 

Shiro looked down with a smile. 

“Hey, Pidge.” 

“So, when do I get my key?” she asked, pointing to the lanyard in Shiro’s hand, the key to the cheer gym dangling from them. 

“How do you even know you made the team?” Shiro asked. He knew she hadn’t made it through the cheer hoard to see the list. He also knew, that she knew, she practically had a guaranteed spot. 

“Because I know the co-captain,” she said. “Oh, and because everyone at tryouts ate my dust.” 

“You’re pretty cocky, you know that?” Shiro asked, but he unlocked the door and held it open for her. They both ignored the loud creak of the door hinges and the little bits of rust that rained down on them. “Your uniform is in the locker room. Come on, I’ll show you,” he added with a smile. 

Shiro turned into the locker room, Pidge following behind him. He stopped short when he saw Keith sitting on the floor, a flurry of papers spread out on one of the better looking benches. He had his head in his hand, fingers splayed through his hair and tugging gently. 

Pidge ran into Shiro’s back, letting out a loud ‘oof’ when she bounced off of him. 

“Oh, hey,” Keith said, looking up at Shiro with a pained smile. 

“Hey, you okay?” Shiro asked. 

“Yeah,” Keith said unconvincingly. The once more, more decided “Yeah.” He turned back to his papers, gathering them up into a messy pile. “I’m good.” 

Keith stood and craned his neck around Shiro’s large body. 

“Is that Pidge back there?” he asked, giving a tired smile when Pidge popped her head out from behind Shiro. 

“Hey, Keith!” She said, waving. 

“Your locker is #48,” Shiro explained, pointing down the long row of discolored lockers. 

“Hang a left,” Keith said, giving further explanation when she came to the intersection of even more lockers. 

Shiro leaned on the locker next to Keith, thumbing at the papers that Keith had shoved beneath his arm. 

“What’s all this?” Shiro asked, worry in his eyes. 

“It’s nothing,” Keith said, not wanting to worry Shiro with anything unnecessary.

“It’s something. I can tell,” Shiro said, tapping a finger on the end of Keith’s nose. 

“They want to reduce my scholarship money,” Keith said. “If I fill this out,” he said, waving the giant stack of paperwork, “I might get a hearing with the board, but it doesn’t look promising. And if I don’t get the money, I’ll need to get another job. Which means, there might be another spot open on the team.” 

“If you quit the team, you’ll have to have three jobs anyway,” Shiro said. “It’s a sports scholarship.” 

“Yeah, well you tell that to the FAFSA,” Keith sighed. “They don’t seem to understand the concept.”

“Hey, Shiro!” Pidge called from her locker and they both looked in the direction of locker 48. 

“You’re still coming over later?” Shiro asked, his eyes falling back on Keith.

“You bet,” Keith said with a genuine smile. 

“We’ll talk more then? Sort the whole thing out?” He asked. 

“Sounds good,” Keith said. He pulled Shiro down by the neck, kissing him quickly before escaping out of locker room door. 

Just as Keith left, Pidge was rounding the corner. She held the fringed uniform skirt in her hands, holding it out to Shiro like it was a blasphemous article. 

“I can’t wear this!” Pidge said. 

“Is it, too big?” Shiro asked cautiously. 

“No, it’s . . . it’s too girly! I can’t wear it!” She said. 

“Pidge, it’s part of the uniform.” 

“You don’t have to wear one!” Pidge said defensively. 

“We can probably get you a guys uniform, if you’d rather,” Shiro said. “But, we’d have to order it.”

“Just the shorts,” Pidge said. “I’m fine with the girls top but,” she shook the skirt, it’s frills swishing around. “This is too much.” 

Shiro nodded. 

“Alright, we’ll check and see if we can find a pair of shorts and if not, we’ll order a new pair.” 

Pidge threw her arms around Shiro’s middle. 

“Thanks, Shiro,” she said, squeezing him into a tight hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to make Lance sad and I'm so sorry


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet some more people from the cheer team and learn a little more about the cheer program itself.  
> Keith and Lance bicker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short-ish chapter this week

Lance grabbed Hunk’s arms and jumped up and down with him. They were laughing and smiling and acting like little girls, more so than the actual girls who had gotten on the team. But they didn’t care because their names were on the list in black and white and they were excited. Some girls gave them nasty glares, their noses crinkled and their lips curled, but they were the bitter losers. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Hunk said. 

“Good news, I presume?” Allura asked, coming up behind them. 

They broke apart in surprise, trying to play it cool in front of her. 

“Good news?” Lance asked, pushing his hair back as casually as he could. “I knew I’d get a spot. I’m an athlete.” 

Allura laughed, ignoring his presumptuousness. 

“Well, come on, practice orientation starts in 15,” she said, smiling kindly at Hunk. The two boys followed her into the gym, along with a few other new recruits. 

When they got inside, the rest of the team was waiting. Shiro had a swarm of girls around him and Lance felt instinctively jealous. Shiro was so charming and they were all swooning over what he had to say. Lance pushed the jealousy away, knowing that Shiro deserved the attention. He was an all–American boy, the kind of guy mothers wanted their sons to be, the kind of guy girls wanted their husbands to be. The kind of guy Lance wanted a boyfriend to be. Then he had to push more jealousy away, Shiro could chose any one of those fawning girls, but he would NEVER look at Lance that way. 

‘Step back, Lance,’ Lance thought to himself. ‘You haven’t crushed on a straight guy since high school. Hit on them? Admired them? Yes. But crushes? No.’ He laughed at himself and Hunk gave him a concerned look. Lance turned his attention back to his new team.

Looking at the full team, Lance suddenly felt like he was in the diamond again. The amount of people standing courtside was just about the same as baseball players allowed on field. He knew, from tryouts, that last years remaining team was small because of graduates leaving and having to be replaced. But it hadn’t seemed this small. Even with the new recruits, the team looked tiny. 

“They doubled the team at tryouts,” Hunk said. 

“Oh, good. There’s like, no one here,” Lance said. 

“No, dude,” Hunk said. “Count the team shirts,” he said, pointing to the teammates from last year. They wore practice shirts and pristine white shoes. They had their hair tied away from their faces. They had scurried to the white line of the gym in a tight, single file line when Allura had entered. “Then count us,” Hunk continued, referring to the newbies. “That’s ten and ten.” 

“What?” Lance asked. “That’s crazy. The baseball team had 20 and we’re only allowed 9 on the field. Don’t we all go out at the same time now? What if someone’s sick?” 

“I told you the team was in trouble,” Pidge said, smiling widely as she watched both boys jump at her arrival. She was wearing a team practice shirt already. “Come on.” 

The boys followed her to the white line and no sooner than they’d touched their sneakers to it, Allura was yelling at the clump of girls who were talking to Shiro. They jumped at her angry voice. 

“Do you not notice the rest of your team in position?” She shouted coldly to the group. “Line up!” 

The girls scurried to the white line and waited in fear. 

“This is your orientation,” Allura said. “What that means, is that I’m going to be harsh with you. I am going to tell you how I run my ship. And if you don’t like it, there are dozens of girls waiting outside to take your place.” 

“This doesn’t seem fun anymore, Lance,” Hunk murmured and Pidge elbowed him in the side to quiet him. 

“I am the coach and the captain,” Allura continued. Then held an arm out to Shiro who joined her in center court. “This is Shiro. He is co-captain and co-coach. You do not do anything without consulting one of us first. You do not stunt, you do not lift, you do not BREATHE without asking us first. That’s for your own safety.” 

Allura began stalking up and down the line like she was a military official, readying her troupes for battle. She eyed each new recruit as she passed. 

“Girls, this is not a dating game, you will leave our boys alone. And new boys, this is not the place to get distracted with girls. You have to be sharp and alert.” She stopped in front of Lance, meeting his guilty eye contact with a dark glare. “If I so much as hear you whispering a pick up line into one of my girl’s ears, I will not hesitate to bench you.” 

A few girls giggle down the line and Allura whipped her head toward them. 

“NEVER talk when I am speaking,” Allura said. “If you have a question, step forward.” 

Lance stepped forward immediately. Hunk tugged him back before Allura could see. 

“What?” Lance asked, but Hunk shushed him. 

“You have all been assigned lockers,” Allura said. “Your practice clothes are in there, along with your game day uniforms and your competition uniform. I expect you all to be back out on this floor in five minutes, in your practice clothes, so we can go over stretches.” 

Everyone who wasn’t already changed scurried to the locker room. 

“Co-ed locker room,” Lance noted, wiggling his eyebrows at Hunk. 

 

/ / 

 

“Can’t you get any lower?” Keith sighed so heavily that Lance could feel it on the back of his neck where he was sitting on the cheer mats. He was folding as far forward as he could to touch his toes. His fingers barely brushed the top of his dirty sneakers. 

Then, something was pressing flat against his back, pushing him farther down into the stretch so that his chest was closer to his knees. 

“I don’t bend like that!” Lance croaked, flapping his hands behind him, trying to swat what was pressing him down. He turned his head to see that Keith was leaning his shin against Lance’s back, putting his weight into Lance’s weak stretch. 

“If you want to do jumps, you have to work on your flexibility,” Keith said. 

“Jumps?” Lance asked. “I’m not jumping, I’m just lifting chicks up.”

“Everyone jumps,” Keith said. 

Before Lance could ask what kind of jumps, Allura called Keith over to join the team in a jump demonstration. 

They did ten jumps in a row, all in precise unison, Allura calling out the name of each jump before they stuck the move. Toe touch, Pike, tuck jump, herkie, Lance couldn’t remember all of the names, let alone match them with what they looked like. 

When he practiced the jumps, Lance could barely get one foot higher than the other, let alone touch his toes. Hunk was having better luck. He had more power in his legs, Lance was sure that’s what it was. 

After stretching, and warm ups, and jumps, and a run through of the routine they’d learned during try outs, Allura decided to take pity on the new recruits. They were all sitting in the center of the gym floor in a big circle. Allura handed out mini gatorades to everyone before sitting in the circle herself. She then tossed a pom pom to someone on the team, letting her introduce herself.

Lance took a deep breath. He could handle an icebreaker. Back in his element, he scoured the circle for pretty faces. His eyes paused on Keith. Keith, perfect Keith. From what Lance could tell, Keith was perfect at cheerleading too. No one corrected him, or told him to shape up, or asked him to stop talking. He fell into line, the perfect teammate. Keith pushed some of his dark hair out of his eyes, watching the girl speaking with the most bored expression Lance had ever seen. God, could he be anymore condescending? Even the icebreakers were boring him? Keith bit his lip, his white teeth holding it for a second before releasing it again. 

Keith’s frown turned up on one side, and Lance’s eyes shifted to Keith’s. Lance immediately looked away when their eyes met. Had he been staring at Keith’s mouth? That was, weird. He hated Keith. He convinced himself that he hadn’t been staring and ignored the look that Keith had given him, a knowing and entertained smirk. 

Lance settled his gaze back on the girl with the pom pom. It was a different girl now. She had blonde pigtails that hung past her shoulders. She’d tied her team shirt up to show off her slim stomach. Nyma. She’d been on the team last year. She had a mousy face, and when she made eye contact with Lance, there was something mischievous in her eyes. This time, he didn’t look away. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and before he’d realized that her spiel was over, she was tossing the pom pom at him. 

He caught it before it could hit him in the face, but just barely. He noticed Keith rolling his eyes before he brought his attention back to Nyma. 

“Hi, the name’s Lance,” he said, a smirk cracking over his face. “I’m a robotics major. I used to be on the baseball team, but forget those guys, they’re all jerks,” he shot a look at Keith, who raised an eyebrow at Lance’s pointed look. “So, I decided I’d give this a try, hang out with all the pretty people,” Lance looked back at Nyma and winked. She giggled, covering her mouth daintily. 

Then, a little rougher than he needed to, he threw the pom pom at Keith. 

Keith caught it flawlessly, of course. 

“I’m Keith,” he said, and handed the pom pom off to Shiro who sat beside him. 

“That was it?” Lance whispered to Hunk who sat next to him. Hunk shrugged but didn’t answer. Hunk was too busy listening to Shiro’s pep talk about the ‘great talent’ that had been chosen for the team’s new season. He was a sucker for pep talks. 

“That was it?” Lance re-iterated to Pidge on his other side. Pidge looked at him. She looked dead in the eyes. 

“You got a crush?” She asked sarcastically, a shit eating grin cracking her ‘look of death.’

“No!” Lance said, his voice straining as he whispered to her. “He’s the enemy! He’s a total jerk!” 

“Mhm,” Pidge said, her attention shifting as Shiro ended his speech. He lightly feigned tossing the pom pom to Pidge before following through, sure that she was paying attention before letting them go. She caught them easily. 

“I’m Pidge,” she said. “I stopped cheering for a while, but I’m back now.” 

Allura gave a quick, little golf clap where she sat across the circle, but Pidge didn’t acknowledge it. She just tossed the pom pom to someone else. 

When the pom pom made its way to Hunk, he gave a quick, and nervous, introduction before tossing it away again. This time, the pom pom landed in the hand of the pretty cheerleader they’d seen the day they’d snuck into the gym. She was still in jeans and her team jacket, not dressed the way everyone else was. 

“Hey,” she said, her feminine voice reminded Lance of flowers or streams, or something equally nature-y and girly. “My name is Shay.” Lance turned to talk more to Hunk, but his eyes were the size of dinner plates, watching this girl talk. “I’m recovering from an injury, so I won’t be able to compete until later in the season. But I’ll still be here for anyone if they need to talk or need help nailing down some new moves.” 

She tossed the pom pom to the last guy on the team, Rolo, but Lance tuned him out. He nudged his elbow into Hunk’s side. 

“Hey, big guy,” Lance whispered. “Find yourself a new honey?” 

“Lance,” Hunk hushed him. His cheeks turned red under Lance’s knowing look. “Shhh,” he continued, unsure of what else to say and Lance shrugged innocently. 

 

/ / 

 

“What’s up with that run down old gym?” Hunk asked. He had a towel slung around his hips and was rubbing his dark hair with another. 

“What do you mean?” Lance asked. He was pulling on a fresh pair of jeans, wiggling into them when they reached his hips. 

“The gym,” Hunk said. “It’s a basketball court, don’t you think that’s weird?” 

Lance shrugged. Of course, he’d known that it was a basketball court. They spent most of practice standing on the sideline or learning lifts at the free throw line, but Lance hadn’t really thought about it. Not the way Hunk had, apparently. 

“Probably just so we know where to dance and stuff when we cheer for games,” Lance said. He sat on the edge of his bed, slipping his feet into his blue sneakers. 

“No way,” Hunk said. “It’s a high school sized court. Plus, there’s only one locker room.” 

“So what?” Lance asked. He’d leaned back in his bed, ignoring the fact that his damp hair was going to stick up in the back when they eventually made it out of the dorm and to the dining hall. He stared at his phone, waiting for Hunk to finish getting dressed. 

“I think that it’s from when the school was a boys prep school,” Hunk said, shrugging. “It’s just weird that, for a sports school, they haven’t upgraded the cheer facilities.” 

“Do you blame them?” Lance asked. “Cheerleading probably doesn’t bring in much money. The football team rakes in a full stadium every Friday night. How many of those ticket sales are really for the cheerleaders?” 

“Still, a gym from the 20’s that’s not even aimed toward the sport? I’m just saying, it’s a little prejudice of the school board.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slower chapter but there's some choice Klance moments tbh lol

Pidge ate dinner alone. She also ate breakfast and Lunch alone. She was a 16 year old in college, not to mention nobody ever knew if she was a boy or a girl, so finding a place where she fit in wasn’t the easiest. It wasn’t that she was shy or scared, she just didn’t feel like explaining. She was at school to get an education. She was at school to be successful and to work hard. She had just added cheering to the mix, but that was more at Shiro’s ‘gentle’ suggestion than her own interest. 

She didn’t feel like explaining to others why she was wearing boys’ clothes or why her hair was cut short or even why she wore glasses with no prescription. She would much rather sit alone, shoving an ungodly amount of mac and cheese into her mouth and reading up on her classes’ texts, than sitting with a group who would stare at her like some kind of anomaly and ask inane questions. 

She did sometimes envy those who sat in smiling groups though, laughing and sharing stories. But she had Shiro for that, sort of. He was more of an older brother than a best friend, but he always listened to her when she had something to say. 

She sat down in the cafeteria, alone in one of the booth seats, her hood up over her head and her nose in her biology 201 notebook. She’d read through half of her first page of notes before she heard her name being called from across the cafeteria. 

Her head jerked up and through her grease smudged glasses she saw a few of the cheer guys coming toward her. Lance and Hunk, she remembered. She waved at them with a smile and put her face back in her notebook. She had assumed that they were just waving to be polite, but then the table shook as Lance dropped his tray onto it. 

Pidge looked up again, surprise settling into her features again. 

“Anyone sitting here?” Hunk said, sliding into the booth before getting an answer. Lance slid in beside him. “Whatcha reading?” 

Hunk leaned forward over his tray, glancing into Pidge’s notebook. 

“BIO 201?” Hunk asked. “That’s some smart stuff. I took that last semester. Is that a drawing of a robot?” 

At that Lance leaned over, spying the drawing. Pidge slammed her notebook shut and sighed. 

“Don’t look at my stuff,” she snapped and Hunk backed off, though his feelings looked entirely un-hurt. Lance slunk back into his seat also. He lifted a piece of friend chicken to his mouth.

“So, we’re the smart cheerleaders huh? What do you think those other bimbo’s major in? Communications? Psychology?” Lance asked with a mouth full of chicken. 

“What’s wrong with Psychology?” Hunk asked. 

“What’s wrong with communications?” Pidge echoed, and Lance rolled his eyes. 

“There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with them,” Lance said, using air quotes. “Everyone just knows that they’re the easy majors. Like, theater and art.” 

“Art isn’t easy,” another voice said and they all looked up to see Keith who slid into the booth next to Lance. 

Lance was about to ask why Keith had squeezed into his and Hunk’s booth when Pidge was sitting alone, but then Shiro and Allura slid in beside her. Shiro put his arm behind Allura’s shoulders and rested it along the back of the booth. He tugged lightly at Pidge’s hood, making it fall and she swatted a hand at him. Allura watched Shiro with a sweet smile on her face. 

For the first time, Lance realized what a cute couple they would make, if they weren’t already dating, that is. They had chemistry. And my god, how could they not? They were two of the most popular and attractive people Lance had ever seen. They were also both driven and sweet. Shiro smiled back at Allura and Lance was sure they were together from that look. It was too familiar, they’d at least boned, about that he was positive. 

Lance looked away, not wanting his mind to follow that path. They would be cute together. He could get behind it. Thinking about them boning, or thinking about the feelings that he definitely shouldn’t be catching for Shiro’s rockin’ bod, weren’t productive dinner thoughts. There was no use in falling for people like them anyway, Lance decided. Allura was way out of his league, and Shiro, well Shiro was too straight to even acknowledge that Lance would want to be in his league. 

He turned to Keith, whose arm was resting on the booth behind him, mirroring Shiro’s. Lance’s stomach did a strange flip that he decided was hate for the cocky invasion of his space. 

“Art isn’t easy?” Lance mocked. “What’s not easy, finger painting or smoking weed?” 

Shiro, Pidge, and Allura all turned their heads to the pile of bags that waited beside their booth, the largest of the bunch being a huge black art portfolio. Shiro cleared his throat nervously. Lance and Hunk followed their gazes, and Hunk laughed. It took Lance a second to connect the dots. 

“You?” Lance asked, looking back at Keith. “You’re an art major?” 

“He’s really good, too,” Shiro complemented and Keith rolled his eyes. 

“Just because it’s not rocket science, doesn’t mean it’s not difficult,” Keith said. 

“Robotics,” Lance corrected. “I’m a robotics major.” 

“Yeah, that,” Keith said.

“So, what? Are we required to all sit together now?” Pidge asked. She’d shoved her notebook to the inner corner of the table, resigned to the noisy group that now surrounded her. 

“It builds team camaraderie,” Allura said confidently. “But it’s not mandatory.”

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to sit with us?” Shiro asked, he reached farther over the seat, tugging playfully at Pidge’s ear this time. With his arm stretched out, Lance saw the long scar that ran along the center of Shiro’s arm. It spanned from elbow to wrist, jagged and ugly but healed over. It was pink and shiny, similar to the scar over his nose. In practice he was in a long sleeve shirt, at tryouts too. Keith elbowed Lance hard in the side, noticing his stare. 

“Don’t be rude,” Keith said under his breath just before Lance elbowed him back. 

“I wasn’t being rude,” Lance countered and Keith kicked him under the table. 

“Staring is rude.” 

“Fuck off,” Lance said, kicking back. 

“Keith, Lance,” Shiro said sternly and the two sat at attention, no longer fighting. “What are you two fighting about?” Shiro asked curiously, his expression less severe than a moment ago. 

“Nothing,” Keith said. 

“Yeah, nothing,” Lance said, not wanting to explain that he’d been staring. 

 

/ / 

 

Shiro’s apartment was small and the modern style made it seem almost cold, but Keith felt more at home there than anywhere else he’d been in his entire life. Unless, of course, he was counting his bike, but even then it was a close call. 

He was lying on the grey futon couch in the open living and kitchen area, paperwork strewn across the thrift-store coffee table in front of him. He had an arm thrown over his eyes, blocking the fading sunset that came in through the window behind him. He’d been staring at words like financial, subsidized, and consolidation for far too long and needed a break. 

He knew why they were reducing his financial aid. He was a statistic that they weren’t willing to bet on. He’d aged out of the foster system and the school knew, statistically, that he wouldn’t make it to graduation. He’d also ditched baseball for cheerleading, another no-go for the school board. They didn’t want to fund someone who was in a sport that wasn’t bringing any funds back. 

He breathed in deeply. The scent of Shiro was sewn into every corner of the apartment and Keith found it so comforting that he’d fallen asleep by the time Shiro returned home. When he woke up, the whole house smelled differently. Keith sniffed the air. The smell of seasoned chicken was settled in the room like a warm blanket. He could hear Shiro’s soft humming as the chicken sizzled away in a frying pan. 

Keith cracked an eye open. Shiro’s back was to him but Keith could see that in one hand he had a spatula, shifting the contents of the pan, and in the other he had his phone. He was scrolling through what looked like, based on the color scheme, the school website. 

“Good morning,” Keith said, reaching his arms above him and stretching out on the futon. He was longer than the couch, his hands and feet surpassing each side. 

Shiro turned, a warm smile on his face. 

“Did you have a nice nap?” He asked, putting his phone back into his pocket. 

Keith nodded, sitting up on the couch and stretching his arms up over his head again. 

“You shouldn’t sleep on that thing,” Shiro advised. “It’ll kill your back.” 

“I’m fine, old man,” Keith laughed. “I didn’t plan on falling asleep out here.” 

“Old man?” Shiro asked. “I’m barely two years older than you.” 

Keith shrugged, getting up from the couch and closing the distance between them. He leaned up to kiss Shiro before craning his neck to see what was cooking. 

“I thought it was my turn to cook,” Keith said, plucking a piece of chicken from the side of the pan and popping it into his mouth. 

“You’re going to burn yourself,” Shiro said and, although Keith was sure he’d burned his tongue, he just shrugged. “You can cook tomorrow. I didn’t want to wake you. How’s the financial aid hunt going?” 

Keith heaved out a sigh and Shiro knew it was the only answer he was going to get. To be fair, it told him everything he needed to know.   
Keith was an amazing artist, but unfortunately the school didn’t reward art scholarships. Shiro couldn’t count the number of times he’d come home to Keith sitting on a tarp in the living room, using a paintbrush or pens or pastels to bring a piece of art to life. It killed him that the school refused to recognize that talent. 

Keith had ended up at V.U. on a sports scholarship. It was a partial scholarship, but it paid for most of his freshman year. When baseball wasn’t working out for him anymore, he needed another sport to fill that substantial hole in his tuition. Shiro had suggested cheerleading. It was time consuming but ultimately flexible. Shiro could excuse him from late practices or weekend drills if he needed to work or finish a project in the meantime. 

Baseball hadn’t granted him that kind of flexibility. He’d run himself ragged with the strict practice schedule. He had a hard time getting to work and would have to show up late most of the time. Not to mention, he practically had to put his major on hold because his grades were dipping so low. With no time to finish any of his projects, he was always handing in half done or substandard work. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll work out,” Shiro said, but Keith didn’t believe that. His financial aid package got smaller and smaller every semester and he was really at a breaking point now. He barely had any savings and he didn’t have the credit history for a decent loan. He nodded anyway, placating Shiro with false positivity. 

“You should invite the team over this weekend,” Keith said, changing the topic from his lowly luck in the financial department to anything else. He leaned back on the counter, watching as Shiro took out silverware to set the table. 

“Wow,” Shiro said, mockingly. “I must have something in my ears. Does Keith Kogane want to socialize?” He smiled widely when Keith rolled his eyes and sent him a sarcastic smile. 

“You know how important it is for a team to be united,” Keith explained. “And what better way to unite a group of college kids than cheap beer and loud music?” 

Shiro nodded as he reached for some plates from the cabinet above the counter. They were mismatched, like all of Shiro’s dishes. One was stolen from the dining hall, though he couldn’t recall how it had ended up there. 

“Allura won’t like her athletes drinking during the season,” Shiro said. 

“She’ll like their bonded hatred over her when everyone is hung-over at Saturday practice,” Keith offered. After a week and a half of practice, the team was still segregated into the old members and the newbies and Keith could tell it was pushing Allura’s nerves. “Plus, we can get her that fancy beer she likes. She won’t be complaining then.” 

“And Pidge?” Shiro asked as he scooped a pile of rice onto each plate then smothered each pile with chicken and sauce. 

“What about Pidge?” Keith asked, sitting down on one of the two stools at the tiny table where they always ate dinner together. 

“Listen, I’m alright with inviting freshmen and sophomores over to drink even though they’re underage, at least they’re college age. But Pidge? She’s sixteen. It’s really not appropriate for her to get drunk at a house party. Plus, Matt would kill me,” Shiro said. 

“Matt’s less protective of her than you are,” Keith laughed. Shiro set Keith’s plate in front of him and Keith dug in, shoveling a ravenous fork-full of food into his mouth. “We’ll just make sure she doesn’t drink,” Keith said a few seconds later when he’d swallowed most of what was in his mouth. 

“Slow down,” Shiro said. “You’re going to choke. It’s like you haven’t eaten in weeks.” 

Keith straightened up, realizing that he was hunched over his food. Shiro liked to liken Keith’s eating habits to that of a wild animal and he couldn’t really disagree. Old habits die hard. 

It was strange, sometimes, for Keith to wrap his head around manners and politeness. Especially when Shiro had been raised with such strict rules. His posture was flawless and he never forgot to say please and thank you. Not to mention he knew all the secret rules, like what fork to use at restaurants or how to make small talk. 

The nice thing was, Shiro wasn’t snobby about it. He didn’t care that Keith’s table manners were less than desirable or that he didn’t play well with others. He simply cared that Keith didn’t choke to death over a cheap meal. 

“Sorry,” Keith said with a shy smile. He took a normal sized bite, chewed, and swallowed before speaking again. “But you really should invite the team over.” 

 

/ / 

 

Lance was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he couldn’t feel his sore muscles as his arm followed through on a perfect pitch. He couldn’t feel how tight his hamstrings were as his leg kicked up behind him, giving the ball more momentum as it left his hand. He also knew it was a dream because the whole baseball team cheered for him as the batter struck out. 

But the dream took a turn and he stopped knowing it was a dream when Keith stepped up to home plate. Keith’s black hair was in his face, his red batting helmet pushing it farther down in front of his eyes. 

Lance pitched again, his heart fluttering in his chest. This time, he could feel the burn in his arm and the crack of the ball against the bat was unmistakable. The crowd broke into rowdy cheers and Lance could feel the hateful glares of everyone in the outfield. He saw every face turn to him with disgust and simultaneously watched as the ball soared out into the crowd. 

That’s when his eyes locked with another familiar face. But this face was much more familiar than any other face he’d seen. He knew the dark skin and the wrinkles around the eyes. He knew the dark hair that was slicked neatly back. He knew the neat mustache. It was his dad, staring back at him, a look of disappointment on his face. 

Lance’s stomach dropped and his whole body jerked, waking him violently from the dream. 

Barely there light streamed through his dorm room window, low and dark with a sun that hadn’t quite risen yet. His phone read 5:15 am. He scrubbed at his face, trying to shake the dream and the look that his dream father had given him. His hands came back with crumbly green residue on them and he remembered the facemask he’d put on before bed. 

He sighed heavily before getting up out of bed and grabbing his shower caddy. In the shower, he let the hot water wash away the green mask. The water eased his muscles, tight from cheer practices and extra hours at the gym. He’d hoped that a shower would wash away the melancholy feeling that his dream had left him with, but he got out of the shower with the same feeling he’d stepped in with. It felt like a damp dread was encasing his whole body. 

He stood in front of the line of foggy mirrors and stared at himself, resting heavily on the counter that spanned the wall of the communal bathroom. He didn’t look tired. He just felt that way. 

“It’s all in your head, man,” Lance mumbled to himself. “Stop psyching yourself out and pull yourself together.” 

A toilet flushed behind him and Lance jumped, his back straightening up in surprise. He’d thought he was alone. Usually the bathrooms were desolate at this time in the morning. He avoided eye contact with the other boy as he came out of the stalls, pretending he hadn’t just been giving himself a tough-love pep-talk. 

When he got back to his room, Hunk was still sleeping. His mountain of blankets was moving with the smooth swells of his breathing. Usually, the pair went to breakfast together at the main dining hall, but Hunk looked too comfortable to wake and Lance was to hungry to wait. He got dressed quickly and pulled a blue beanie over his wet hair before heading to the closest dining hall. 

He trudged through the frosty quad, damning the weather for already turning cool and souring the once great summer. He knew that by mid day it would be hot enough to wear t-shirts and play Frisbee out in the quad, but the mornings were cold enough that he wished he’d worn his jacket over his hoodie. 

The warm, French fry scented air of the dining hall was welcoming, warming his face immediately as he stepped inside the dining hall closest to his dorm building. He rarely came to this dining hall because it was mostly grab and go food, but it was one of the only ones open at 6am and it was close. He loaded a tray with some odds and ends, a cup of less-than-fresh fruit, an energy drink, a carton of popcorn chicken and saddled up to the cash register. 

He looked at the row of stale baked goods that waited beside the cashier, deciding against adding one to his purchase when he saw a corner of blue mold on one of the muffins. 

“Hey, stranger,” the cashier said, and Lance’s eyes snapped away from the rotting muffin. Sitting on a stool behind the register was Keith. He was wearing a red visor and vest, a work uniform. He looked more tired than Lance felt. 

“Oh, hey Keith,” Lance said, plastering a smirk on his face. It was hard for him to put up that mask this early, but he didn’t want Keith to see his tired stare. “Do I get a discount? You know, friends and family?” 

Keith’s eyebrows pushed closer together, curious, as if he’d seen Lance’s façade, but he didn’t comment on it. 

“You’re not my friend and I don’t have any family,” Keith said casually as he rang up the items on Lance’s tray. 

Lance almost said something about Keith’s blasé comment, no family, but then decided it was better not to ask. 

“That’s cold, dude,” Lance said. “I didn’t know you worked at this dump.” 

“I didn’t know you woke up before noon,” Keith said. “You don’t seem like the type. Or have you not gone to bed? You do look a little zombie-esque.” 

“Hottest zombie you’ve ever seen,” Lance said, less of a bite in his voice than intended. Again, Keith gave him that curious look. 

“Ugliest too, since I’ve never seen one before. You know, because they’re fake,” Keith said. Lance narrowed his eyes but couldn’t think of a comeback. 

“Are you gonna tell me the total or not?” Lance said.

Lance wasn’t sure, but he could swear that a blush spread over Keith’s face as he turned it toward the digital screen on the register. 

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, tapping a few buttons before turning back to Lance, his face back to it’s usual shade. Maybe Lance was just imagining things. He felt his own cheeks heat up. “$9.50,” Keith answered.

Lance handed over his school card and Keith swiped it. Lance took his card back quickly when Keith offered it, ready to leave the awkwardness that’d cropped up in their conversation. 

He took his tray out into the seating area, small and empty, that sat beyond the registers. He contemplated going back to the dorm and eating in the dark while Hunk slept, but ultimately decided against it. He sat in a corner at a large round table, just out of Keith’s view.

He’d made it halfway through his bowl of fruit, picking out the mushy grapes, when someone sat down across from him. Lance looked up to see Keith sitting down, a boxed salad in front of him. 

“Salad for breakfast?” Lance asked snidely. 

“It’s not breakfast for me,” Keith answered. 

“So, you’re the one who hasn’t gone to bed yet,” Lance muttered and Keith shrugged. 

“Guess so,” Keith said. He shoveled a mouthful of greens into his mouth. “You going to Shiro’s tomorrow?” Lance cringed as Keith spoke with his mouth full. 

“Shiro’s? Why would I go to Shiro’s?” Lance asked. 

“There’s a party,” Keith said and Lance’s heart sunk deep into his stomach. 

“Nah, wasn’t invited,” Lance said. He shrugged his shoulders and took a long swig of his energy drink, trying to act unaffected. 

Keith shook his head and swallowed a huge mouthful of his salad. 

“It’s a last minute thing. We called a few people. I just figured it had gotten to you. The whole team is invited,” Keith clarified. 

“Oh,” Lance said, excitement making him perk up for the first time since he woke up. “Nice.” 

“Tell your buddy, Hunk,” Keith added and Lance nodded. If Hunk hadn’t been sleeping, Lance would be texting him that second. 

For a while they sat in silence, eating their meals without looking at each other. Then an alarm went off on Keith’s phone, cutting through the silence. 

“Back to work,” Keith said. 

“You’re not done?” Lance asked. 

“Almost. Then class,” Keith said. 

“Do you ever sleep?” Lance asked but Keith just shrugged and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Monday! Hope everyone is enjoying it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party chapter

Shiro laughed, catching Lance as he swayed into his arms. He had a beer can sword duck taped to his left hand. One of his eyes drooped lower than the other as he peered up at Shiro, a serious case of drunk-eyes. 

“Shiro, you handsome devil, I didn’t know you threw wild parties,” he slurred, before taking a long pull of the beer in his right hand. 

“Don’t make him regret it,” Keith said, coming up beside the two. Keith’s arms were crossed over his chest, his eyebrows turned down as per usual. Shiro could tell from the pink blush covering his entire face that Keith was more drunk than he was letting on. “Can you even hold your liquor?” 

“I can hold my liquor!” Lance called back defensively. He shot out of Shiro’s warm arms. He regretted that immediately but his drinking-honor was on the line. “I’ve been drinking since my little sister’s quinceanera! I was like, seventeen!” 

Keith didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t let on. Instead, he dug back in with more condescending remarks. 

“Wow, super cool,” he began sarcastically. “Doesn’t mean you’re not gonna puke here,” Keith said 

“Keith,” Shiro warned, “You wanna go get some fresh air?” 

Keith ground his teeth together. Shiro knew him too well sometimes. Keith had slipped easily into his drunken-brawl phase with Lance’s childish bickering. Of course he’d egged Lance on, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, Shiro could see all of Keith’s muscles coiling up to fight for nothing but fighting’s sake. Keith took a deep breath, knowing that if he refused Shiro’s offer, he was going to prove how drunk he was. He could suddenly taste the liquor on his tongue and could feel the dizzy sway of his drinks. He nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go,” Keith agreed. 

Lance watched as Shiro took Keith by the shoulder and led him to the front door of his apartment and out into the hall. 

He was left alone. The alcohol in his bloodstream made the music buzz around him. He looked at the room that seemed to move like churning waves all around him. His first instinct was to look for Hunk. 

Hunk was usually holding down the snack table or chatting up a girl nervously. Lance gravitated around him at parties, his black outs revolving around little memories of losing and finding Hunk over and over again. 

This time as he scanned the room, his eyes landed on a strange creature that he wasn’t completely familiar with. It looked like Hunk, dark skin and darker hair, big arms and huge hands. But his arms weren’t hanging at his side. They were wrapped around someone else, his hands tenderly on their back. 

It took a few moments of staring for Lance to realize who it was. With her back to him, and the rest of her meshing with Hunk, it was understandable that Lance wouldn’t recognize her. Especially when she wasn’t in her usual dark wash jeans and cheer jacket. 

Shay. 

She looked really pretty in a flouncy floral dress. Every once and a while her head would turn and Lance would catch the light reflecting off her large gold hoop earrings. 

He knew that Hunk had been texting Shay, smiling at his phone and blushing when Lance asked who it was. But he hadn’t known that they’d been so close to this, whatever this was. It looked like more than a drunken make out. It looked like feelings. 

“You into watching your friend getting it on?” A sweet but sexy voice asked into Lance ear. He jumped a little in surprise. He hadn’t entirely registered that he was watching Hunk’s ‘intimate moment’ until the voice brought it to his attention. He turned to the voice, wanting to put a face to it. 

His eyes shot wide when he saw Nyma looking up at him through her eyelashes. 

“Nyma!” Lance said, too loud but too drunk to notice. Nyma didn’t seem to mind. “Hey, gorgeous,” he took a second to look her up and down before blurting out a line he’d practiced earlier that day for just this occasion. “You look like my future girlfriend.” 

Nyma laughed, covering her mouth with a dainty hand. Her nails were painted a bright blue. Lance’s favorite color, which he told himself, was fate. 

“Oh, Lance,” she laughed, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’re so funny!” 

Lance’s whole body seemed to vibrate under her warm touch. 

“If it’s funny you want, baby, it’s funny I got,” he said, winking at her and she laughed again. 

“You want to get a drink with me?” Nyma asked, glancing toward the kitchen. 

 

/ / 

 

Hunk pulled away from Shay. She blushed, realizing that she was kissing someone in the middle of Shiro’s tiny living room, surrounded by her teammates. She ducked her head, a sheepish smile on her face. Hunk smiled shyly too. 

“Do you want to, like, go out sometime?” Shay asked. “I know this really great Indian place.” 

“Like, a date?” Hunk asked, surprised. He’d had a girlfriend in high school, but since coming to college, no one really approached him. In fact, most people in his dorm thought Lance and him were dating with the way that they were always together. It didn’t leave him open to many relationships. 

“If that’s okay,” Shay said, her courage waning. 

“I’d really like that,” Hunk said. 

“Do you want to go to O’Neal’s?” Shay said, her courage returning. “It’s just down the street and they serve way better beer than this watered down stuff.” She shook her nearly empty can of beer. 

Hunk looked up, knowing that it was just about time for Lance to come find him and throw himself over Hunk like a blanket. He’d come to the party with Lance and they always promised each other that they’d never ditch each other.

“Um,” Hunk said, turning back to Shay when he didn’t see Lance right away. “I really want to,” he said guiltily. “But I came here with Lance, and can’t leave him behind. Bro code.” He shrugged apologetically. But Shay laughed and pointed to the kitchen. 

“I think he’s alright,” she said, her finger directing his gaze to the kitchen where Lance was pouring a drink for Nyma. “If you want, you can let him know we’re stepping out for a bit and we’ll come back in, like, an hour to check up on him.” 

Hunk couldn’t resist. As long as it was okay with Lance, it was a really really compelling offer. He was a bit nervous about leaving Lance in the hands of Nyma, who he got a weird vibe from, but he saw Pidge loitering in the kitchen too, shoving snacks into her pockets, and was sure, if he asked, she’d look after Lance. 

“Okay,” Hunk nodded, “let me go talk to him. I’ll meet you out front?” 

“Sure,” she said, smiling widely and getting up to grab her jacket. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance and Nyma squeezed their way past Rolo and one of the freshman girls. Rolo was flirting, whispering in her ear, and Lance was careful not to knock into him. He would never intentionally throw off another guy’s game. 

Nyma didn’t seem to notice, brushing her arm by him as she spoke to Lance. Lance was a little too drunk to remember what she was saying. He thought he caught ‘cute’ and ‘funny’ though and that was enough to keep him stringing along after her. 

She set two cups in front of him and handed him an almost full vodka bottle from the freezer. He fumbled, first reaching for it with his sword-taped hand, before correcting himself. 

“I brought this tonight,” she said, and even though something was telling Lance that it wasn’t true, he didn’t care. He poured one cup half full of vodka until Nyma laughed told him to stop, putting her hands on his bare arms. 

Then she was splitting the drink between the two cups and pouring cranberry juice into each cup to top them off. Lance didn’t like cranberry juice but he wasn’t going to say anything to a free drink from a pretty lady. She tapped their cups together and they both emptied their cups. Then, quickly, she poured another drink for both of them. They sipped these ones in between the almost one-sided conversation. 

“Do you want a permanent flyer?” Nyma asked suddenly, and Lance’s foggy mind snapped to attention. 

“You mean, you?” He asked loudly. Nyma laughed and nodded. 

“Yeah, I mean me. I think you’ve got the potential to be a great base. My base is getting boring. So I want someone new,” she explained loudly. 

“You want me to be your base?” Lance asked, in disbelief. “You think I’m good?” 

“With me as your flyer, I think you could be great,” Nyma pushed. She moved closer to him, pressing up against him. He blushed brightly and nodded frantically. 

“Yes, yeah. Of course, I wanna be your base.” 

Lance hoped that his words weren’t slurred too much and that she understood him, but he didn’t have a chance to find out because he heard his name being called above the music. 

“Lance!” 

The loud voice calling his name knocked him and Nyma out of their little bubble. Hunk was sending a small wave to him and approaching nervously. 

“Hey, buddy!” Lance said, giving Hunk a big hug. “You kissed Shay!” He nearly yelled, remembering why he hadn’t been with Hunk to begin with. Hunk shushed him, sending an embarrassed smile to the other kitchen dwellers who looked over curiously. 

“Yeah, I did. Actually that’s what I came to talk to you about,” he said, his voice low. 

“Was it great?” Lance asked excitedly. 

“Not that,” Hunk said, shutting Lance down. “She invited me down to some bar that’s close. Is it okay if I go for a while? I’ll come back,” he explained. “If you want me to stay that’s fine too!” 

“No! Go! Have fun! Get some if you can!” Lance said, meaning to be encouraging though, in reality, just yelling drunkenly. Some people laughed, Hunk shushed him. 

“Pidge?” Hunk asked, turning to the small table in the corner where Pidge was on her phone. Pidge looked up and Lance had already moved back to talking with Nyma. 

Hunk pointed to Lance, shooting Pidge his best, ‘take care of him, please?’ look. She looked to Lance, laughed, then nodded. She sent him a thumbs up and he called a ‘thank you,’ as he headed back toward Shay.

As soon as he was out the door, Pidge came to hover near lance, inspecting the duct taped beer-can contraption on his hand. 

“What is this?” Pidge asked, Lance’s attention landing solely on Pidge’s question.

“This,” he said, brandishing his sword high in the air, “is Wizard Staff!”

 

/ / 

 

The fresh air hadn’t made Keith feel any better. Yes, he no longer wanted to punch anything, but now he just wanted to lay his face on the cool sidewalk and stay there until morning. 

This wasn’t the first time Shiro had taken him outside. No. After wanting to fight Lance, he’d cooled off outside just fine. Then they’d returned. Shiro made rounds in the party long enough for him to say goodbye to Shay and Hunk, to check on Nyma who was crying in the bathroom, to ask Allura how Coran’s semester was going, and then, finally, to circle back to Keith who was digging into another angry argument. This time it was with Rolo, who was seated deep in the futon couch with his arm around one of the freshman cheerleaders. 

They’d headed back out after that, but this time Keith fought the idea of taking a break. It was obvious that he’d continued drinking after returning inside, his words slurring and his face positively red with alcohol. 

At first, Keith had reacted to the fresh air with a rough kiss. He bit at Shiro’s lips and pushed him up to the scratchy brick wall of the apartment building. They’d made out until Keith’s lips had gotten slow and pulled away. Shiro gave Keith his space as his head sunk down to where it now rested on Shiro’s chest. 

Shiro had his arms wrapped around Keith, the cool air falling on their sweaty skin. Keith’s face was resting on Shiro’s broad chest, his jaw slack, as Shiro rocked slowly from side to side. Shiro could feel the heat of Keith’s face through his thin t-shirt. 

“I drank too much,” Keith said weakly and Shiro laughed. 

“You did,” Shiro said. 

“I drank too much,” Keith said again. This time he pulled away from Shiro. Shiro let Keith go, he seemed to move in near slow motion, though Shiro knew the motions must have been jarring for him.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked, following Keith as he walked to the edge of the building. 

Keith shook his head, no. He stopped near the curb, and rested his hands on his knees. He took deep breaths that Shiro could see. His back, curved like a cat’s, was rising and falling in long breaths. Slowly, Shiro reached out to rub small circles on Keith’s back. 

“Shiro?” Pidge’s voice peeped through the front door of Shiro’s apartment building. Shiro turned to see Pidge peaking her head out of the door. Lance was behind her, laughing and talking in mumbles that neither of them understood. Keith didn’t turn to look at them. Shiro wasn’t sure he’d even registered that they were there. 

“What’s up, kid?” Shiro asked. 

“Lance said he needed some air,” she said. “Is that okay?” 

Shiro laughed and nodded. He waved them over. 

“Hey, Hottie McNaughties! We having a block party out here?” Lance asked loudly as he trailed behind Pidge. Pidge and Shiro turned to shush him. He smiled guiltily and began to whisper. “Is this where the cool kids hang out?” 

“Is he okay?” Pidge asked, nodding to Keith. Just as she spoke, Keith’s body trembled and he began to throw up. The sound of Keith’s liquid vomit splashing onto the pavement made Pidge jump away, cringing. 

“You can go inside,” Shiro said to her. He somehow had a calming smile on his face. “I can take care of these two.” 

“Are you sure?” she asked, against her better judgment, but Shiro just nodded. He was gathering up the long strands of hair closest to Keith’s face. 

“I’m sure, go have fun. We’ll all be fine,” he said. 

She didn’t have to ask again and scurried back inside. 

Shiro tugged a black elastic hairband from Keith’s wrist and tied up his boyfriend’s hair. He realized, suddenly, how quiet Lance was. He turned in a panic, hoping that he hadn’t run off. 

But Lance was still there, standing exactly where Pidge had left him. He was rooted to the spot. His tan face had gone ashen and he stared as Keith let out another round of puke. 

“Lance?” Shiro asked, trying to get his attention, but Lance’s eyes stayed stuck to Keith. “Lance?” Shiro asked again. “You okay?” 

This time, Lance looked to him, swallowing hard and nodding solemnly.

“Do you need to throw up?” Shiro asked gently and watched as Lance’s jaw grew tight, clenching his teeth. He could see Lance’s eyes begin to water as he shook his head, no. Then, he began nodding and rushing toward the curb. Shiro helped lead him to the edge, supporting his torso as he leaned over so he wouldn’t fall into the street. 

Lance began throwing up beside Keith, Shiro standing between them, keeping them from falling into their own puddles of vomit. At least Keith was bracing himself on his knees, but Lance just held his stomach weakly. 

This continued for a few minutes. When one wasn’t throwing up, the other was. But it naturally started to slow and soon Keith had stopped throwing up.

Keith spit into the street, trying to get the taste of party-puke from his mouth. He was taking deep breaths again, but he was done vomiting, at least Shiro hoped so. The only reason he might start again was if Lance set him off, but Shiro trusted that Keith’s stomach was stronger than that. 

“Thought you said you could hold your liquor,” Keith croaked, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. Lance was in between retches but could somehow muster the strength to fight back.

“IT WAS THE CRANBERY JUICE,” he squawked, his head bowed down low. He struck his left arm out, slapping Keith with his beer can sword. Keith didn’t have it in him to fight back. He just spit in the street again. 

Shiro grabbed Lance’s duct taped hand and bit a tear in the tape. He freed Lance’s hand and threw the beer-can atrocity toward the recycling cans. 

Lance wanted to fight for the sword, he’d earned it, but he felt the familiar burning of bile in his throat and began throwing up again. 

 

//

Shay tapped her pale pink fingernails on the cool glass of her pint. She looked dreamily at Hunk as he spoke. She liked listening to him. They’d gotten along well from the beginning. They were both on the shy side but they were also always willing to make to new friends. Luckily, the cheer team had thrown them together. Without that, they might not have ever met. 

At first their conversations had all been cheer related, starting with their cheer experience and her injury and then spiraling out to their majors and classes, their hobbies and their families. They began texting almost every day and now, with a date scheduled sometime soon, it felt like they had some kind of new relationship. 

“Can I ask you something?” Shay asked suddenly. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol giving her courage to ask, or if she would have asked anyway, but there was something she needed to know. 

“Of course,” Hunk said, nodding and taking a sip of his own beer. 

“You and Lance, did you ever, date him?” She asked cautiously. It was obvious that Hunk wasn’t shocked by her question. He didn’t spit out his drink or even have a hard time swallowing it. He just smiled and shook his head. 

“We’re just friends,” he answered. 

“There are people that think you’re together, or that you were, or have been.” She was stumbling a little over her words now. Maybe the question had come out because she was drunk. 

“I love the guy, but we’re just buds,” Hunk explained. “We’ve been best friends since middle school and we’ve gone through a lot together. That made us really close. So I understand why people would think we’re together, especially when Lance’s drunk. He gets really clingy. Like, REALLY clingy. But we’ve never been together,” Hunk said.

“Does it bother you that people think that?” Shay asked. She knew so many other guys that would freak out at the accusation, yet Hunk stayed cool and calm under her impromptu interrogation. He just shrugged and shook his head. 

“Doesn’t bother me and it’s not hurting anyone. If people think that, then they can think that. Lance and I don’t care.”

“That’s nice. You’re a good friend.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Hunk nodded, grinning at Shay.

 

/ / 

 

“Oh, Pidge,” Allura said, noticing Pidge where she was seated at the little kitchen table. “You’re still here!” 

Allura was swinging her jacket around her shoulders, her car keys in her hands. Besides Shiro, she’d been the only sober one at the party. She had a car packed with drunk cheerleaders, all waiting to be taken to their dorms or apartments, but she stopped to talk to Pidge anyway. 

“Here I am,” Pidge said. It was almost three in the morning and Pidge looked exhausted, her glasses slipping down her nose and her eyes drooping with exhaustion. She had been waiting for the party to die down so that she could pull Shiro’s futon couch into a futon bed and finally fall asleep. 

“Do you need a ride?” Allura asked. “We could probably squeeze you in to the front if you share a seatbelt.” 

Pidge shook her head. 

“No, that’s okay,” Pidge answered. “I’m crashing here tonight.” 

Allura nodded and pulled her arms through her jacket sleeves. 

“You sure you don’t want a ride home?” She asked. 

“No, that’s fine, thanks.” 

“How’s Matt?” 

Her brother’s name sounded almost foreign on Allura’s lips. She’d never heard Allura talk about him before and just assumed that she didn’t know him. 

“You know my brother?” She asked, the surprise wiping some of the sleep out of her expression. Allura nodded. 

“A little,” she answered. “It was my job to know all of the football team’s incoming freshmen when I was new on the squad. I only met him once.” 

“Before, you know?” Pidge asked, unable to finish the sentence. It was still too soon to talk about. Allura nodded. 

“Yeah. Before.” 

“He’s good,” Pidge said. “Better.” 

“That’s good,” Allura nodded. “Well, I should get going before someone barfs in my car,” Allura said, changing the mood between them from slightly sad and unfamiliar, to jokey with almost no effort. 

“Good luck!” Pidge said. 

 

/ / 

 

“Oh my god! Lance!” Hunk said, breaking into a jog when he saw Lance and Keith sitting on the curb. Shiro was administering water bottles to each of them. 

They all looked up at Hunk as he approached and Lance grinned from ear to ear. 

“Hunk, buddy, my man, I missed you,” Lance said, his words still slurry but now soft. 

“Lance, are you okay?” Hunk asked, looking to Shiro for the answer. 

“Hey, Hunk. Lance is fine,” Shiro said. “He threw up a little bit, but he’s fine.”

“Yeah, Shiro is taking care of me. Isn’t that right, daddy,” Lance joked, smirking up at Shiro. 

“Don’t call him that,” Keith grumbled before anyone else could say anything. 

Hunk nodded but his worried frown didn’t fade. Behind him, Shay caught up and sent a friendly wave to Shiro who returned it. 

“You sure you’re okay, man?” Hunk asked, crouching down beside Lance and ignoring the withering look that Keith gave him. 

“Mfine,” Lance said. Hunk cringed when he caught a whiff of Lance’s barf breath and leaned back away from Lance’s mouth. “How was your night? Did you get laid?” Hunk was glad that Lance had the wits about him to whisper this, but he still blushed and turned to see if Shay had heard. She was talking to Shiro behind them though, not listening to Lance at all. 

Lance’s comment had reassured Hunk that, yes, Lance was fine. Leave it to him to think about Hunk’s sex life when he’d just been hurling his guts out. 

“No, she’s got roommates and doesn’t want to wake them up,” Hunk explained. Then shook his head a little, remembering that Lance would probably want to go home. “Come on,” he said straightening up a little and grabbing Lance’s arm. 

“Take her to our place,” Lance insisted, sounding more sober than a moment ago. 

“I’m going to take you to our place,” Hunk said with a laugh. “You need to sleep this off.” 

“No way, dude.” Lance said, shaking his head. Hunk was trying to gently rouse him from the sidewalk, but Lance was all dead weight and no help. “No way in Hell I’m walking back to our place. That’s so much walking.” 

“It’s like, a mile,” Hunk said. 

“He can stay here,” Keith said. His hair was up in a messy ponytail that was more to the left side of his head than in the middle. Hunk wanted to comment, but had other matters to deal with. 

“Lance, are you sure you don’t want to go back to the dorm?” Hunk asked, giving up on trying to haul Lance up and letting his arm go. 

“Hunk, our room needs to see some action. We owe it to that room,” Lance demanded. The urgency in his voice was over the top and Keith laughed, his smile lighting up his face. 

Lance stared, losing his focus. 

“Okay,” Hunk finally said. “But, if you need me, call me. I’ll leave my phone on.”

“We’ll take care of him, Hunk,” Shiro assured. “Go on, have fun. You’ll see him bright and early in practice tomorrow.”

Hunk nodded, patting Lance on the back. He asked him once more if he was okay, and then finally turned back to Shay. The two left, walking side by side, their hands brushing. Hunk looked back every once and a while just to check if Lance really was still okay. 

But Lance was always beaming up at Shiro or nudging Keith playfully. Lance felt safe with them, Hunk could tell. Hunk was almost jealous that Lance was finding more people to fuss over him and joke with him. But it was good. He knew it was good, Lance deserved it, and Hunk did too. 

Hunk had spent so much time with Lance that it felt natural for them to be inseparable. It was nice to be so familiar with someone, to know all their secrets, but there was more out there, and they both deserved to know what was waiting for them. He stopped looking back at Lance and smiled down at Shay as they made their way onto campus and toward his dorm building. 

 

/ / 

 

Shiro had one arm around Lance’s waist, the other around Keith’s, as he lugged them into his bedroom. Pidge was already sprawled across the futon, her small body fitting perfectly onto it. 

Shiro had nowhere to put Lance but in bed with him and Keith. There was enough room in his bed, but it would be a tight squeeze. Not to mention, he wasn’t sure how Lance would react to sleeping in the same bed as him and Keith. Come to think of it, he was more worried about Keith finding out he slept in the same bed with Lance than Lance finding out he’d slept in the same bed as a couple. 

He laid the two in bed and they both fell asleep instantaneously. The second their eyelids blinked to a close, Keith was curling up around himself in deep sleep and Lance was letting out broken snores. 

Shiro couldn’t help but smile as he untied their shoes. Neither of them stirred when Shiro stripped their shoes off their feet. He changed into a pair of worn sweatpants and an old t-shirt before scooting into the bed beside Keith, pushing Lance up close to the wall. He barely remembered to set an alarm before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't very cheer heavy, but the next one is! So get ready!
> 
> Also, I know I usually update every Monday, but I'm going to skip next week because I feel like I rushed this chapter and I really want to take my time and make sure that this is good, because I love writing it!  
> So the next update will be on November 7th!! (If you want to see what I'm doing in the meantime you can go check out my tumblr at courtney.lej.tumblr.com) 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear what you think and if you see any typos, let me know please!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hung-over Saturday Practice ensues.

Pidge looked up from her piece of toast as Shiro left his bedroom. He was rubbing at his eyes and his shirt was inside out. It was obvious that Shiro didn’t get enough sleep, but none of them really had. 

Saturday practice started well after sunrise, but when you fall asleep at 3am, 9am still feels too early. Pidge had woken up easily enough, her stomach calling her toward Shiro’s nearly bare kitchen. There were bottles in the sink and a neglected half pizza waiting on the counter. Pidge had opted for the slightly stale bread in the cupboard and the syrupy jelly in the fridge. 

“Morning, Pidge,” Shiro yawned. 

“Hey,” Pidge said, beaming up at him. Her smile was almost to bright for him to look at so early in the morning but he smiled back nonetheless. 

Pidge opened her mouth to ask how Keith was, but she heard bickering coming from Shiro’s bedroom. She quirked an eyebrow and watched as Keith and Lance stumbled out, arguing with each other and shoving each other as they tried to walk through the door at the same time. 

“Well, well, well,” Pidge said with a giant smirk spread on her face. She eyed Shiro who blushed and shook his head. 

“They were both sick,” Shiro explained. “I wanted to be able to keep an eye on them.” This was only half true. Yes, he did keep an eye on them before he’d fallen asleep, but he hadn’t woken in the night to check on them or anything like that, and he only formulated the proper sounding excuse when he’d been getting dressed in the morning. 

“Mhm,” Pidge said, not buying the excuse. She took a big bite of toast, still looking smug. 

“Pidge,” Shiro pleaded in a near whine, but Pidge had gone on to listen in on Keith and Lance’s argument. 

“I did not!” Lance was insisting. He was pulling his blue practice shirt over his head and deliberately not looking at Keith. 

“You did too!” Keith said. “You cuddled up to me all night! I had to get your stupid snoring mouth off of my ear at least five times.” 

“I don’t recall,” Lance lied, shrugging and giving Keith an aloof glance. “Mornin’ Pidge.” 

“I cradled you in my arms,” Keith grumbled, but Lance had moved past their conversation and picked up the rest of Pidge’s toast. He shoved the rest in his mouth and ignored Pidge’s protests. 

“I need something to soak up last night,” Lance said with a full mouth. 

“Who are you kidding? Everything you had is splattered on the sidewalk,” Keith said. 

“You puked first!” Lance shot back. 

“Oh gross,” Pidge said, scrunching up her nose. “I hope you made the puke-twins sleep on the floor, Shiro.” 

Shiro just shrugged. 

“We should go,” Shiro said. “I’m going to stop for coffee before we get there.”

“Good, the smell of this place is making me nauseous,” Keith said, his nose scrunching up when he accidentally placed his hand in a puddle of spilled liquor on the counter.

 

/ / 

 

“Good morning, Lance!”

Coran’s warm greeting was met with a groan from Lance. The bright lights of the gym were searing into his corneas. He left his sunglasses down over his eyes. 

“Oh- ho, Shiro’s party must have been a banger,” Coran chipped to Lance who slunk down onto the lowest riser. He had a bottle of water up to his face, chugging it down in hopes of some kind of revitalization. “Just wait until Allura gets a look at you all!” Coran said with a sweet little laugh. 

Lance lifted his head to speak but Coran was already moving on to his next morning greeting. Keith was his next target. Lance sighed in relief. 

“Hi there,” Nyma’s soft voice floated above Lance, but even her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. He barely contained a nauseous cringe. 

She sat down next to him, a smile on her face. She was wearing a sweet smelling perfume that made Lance want to scoot away from her. He resisted and smiled at her instead. 

“That was some party, huh?” Lance asked.

“It wasn’t bad,” Nyma said. “I had a really good time with you. You still want to be my base?” 

At that, Lance perked up. He’d forgotten about the conversation in the swirl of the party but now it was all piecing back together. 

“Oh yeah!” Lance said. “Of course!” 

Nyma put her hand on his arm, a gentle gesture that Lance reveled in. 

“This is going to be fun,” she said with a smile. 

 

/ / 

 

Allura was a dictator. She was an angry, battering leader. Her word was law and everyone in the gym was victim to her demands. They’d started with shaky lifts. Allura knew not to push too hard, careful that no one got hurt, but she also made sure that everyone got their punishment for in-season partying. 

The dance routine came after the lifts. The team was almost thankful, the dance was hard, but at least they were all on the ground. Their thankfulness ended though, when Allura decided to run through the dance with the music blaring behind them and pounding into their hung-over ears. They all made it through, though just barely.

Lance had to take a minute to collect himself, crouching in the back of their dance entourage and breathing hard. Hunk shot him worried glances, but he’d eventually gathered himself, and his woozy stomach, and continued on in the dance. 

When the end of practice was nearing, everyone was breathing heavy and sweating through their practice shirts. But the hope of it all ending was enough to carry them through. After every dance correction or addition, they had the hope that it would be the last. 

Allura, on the other hand, had one more stretch of practice left. It was the grand finale of her torture practice. She called Shiro and Keith to the floor, the original conspirators of the party. The rest of the team sat on the bleachers, guzzling water and catching their breath. 

“Shiro, Keith. I need to see some tumbling. Give it your all,” Allura demanded. She had an evil spark in her eye, a smirk on her face. 

“You okay?” Shiro asked Keith. 

Keith nodded. He had been gulping down black coffee all morning to try and stay awake and alert. He didn’t like the idea of it sloshing around in his stomach as he jumped all around, but he would do it. 

“We gotta take our medicine, right?” Keith joked. It had been his idea for a party. He couldn’t let Shiro take the punishment alone. 

“Right,” Shiro laughed. “I’ll go first.” 

Keith nodded again, his stomach gurgling uncomfortably. 

“Good idea.” 

Shiro started a quick run toward the center of the gym. He jumped and spun, flipping this way and that. Keith couldn’t name the moves, his eyes too unfocused. Just watching somebody move that way made his stomach jerk in protest. 

“Good!” Allura called in response to Shiro’s tired tumbling. It wasn’t his best, Keith could tell that much, but it was better than what Keith would probably be able to pull. “Keith, today, maybe?” Allura asked, and Keith realized that everyone was waiting for him. 

“Yeah, yeah, one second Princess,” Keith muttered to himself. He took a long drink of his now-cool coffee and set the cup on the gym floor. 

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and decide what he was going to do. Then he was running. 

He popped into the air, whipping out a weak round-off/handspring combination, then another, then one more, he got halfway through a cartwheel when he felt his stomach dropping into his throat. He followed through, popping one more trick before reaching the other edge of the gym floor and running out of the large double doors. 

Allura and Shiro ran after him. 

Puking during a night filled with alcohol was one thing. The feeling was always dulled and darkened by the drunkenness. Puking while hung-over in the bright light of a sunny Saturday afternoon was another thing completely. 

Keith could feel every cell in his body as he puked up an unholy amount of coffee into the trash bins outside the gym. The warm hands of Shiro and Allura partnered on his back offered only a small comfort to the situation. 

“I’m so sorry, Keith,” Allura said, though she sounded a little like she was smiling. “Are you alright?” 

“You okay, baby?” Shiro asked. 

Keith nodded, the worst of it was over now. 

“HA!” A loud voice called from the door. “Who can’t hold their liquor now!” 

They all turned to glare at Lance. 

“What? I was just coming to make sure he was okay!” Lance insisted. He tossed his bottle of water to Shiro. “Thought he might need this.” 

Shiro smiled and caught the bottle. So, Lance wasn’t all flirting and banter. He was actually starting to care for the members of his little team. Shiro would have to tell Keith that the party was a good idea after all. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance hadn’t gone out there to check if Keith was okay. He hadn’t brought the water bottle for Keith. He’d just acted on impulse when Keith burst out of the gym.

He’d stopped, halfway down the hallway, between the gym doors and the doors that led outside, wondering if it was weird that he was following. He’d looked down to the water bottle that had been in his hand and decided that was his excuse. 

He wasn’t sure why he had gotten that shock of worry that Allura and Shiro had, that same feeling that bolted them into action. But he had. Maybe they did bond last night, like Keith said. Or maybe it was just his hangover talking. 

The smile that Shiro had given him had made his heart fill his chest to a near painful size. It was so sweet and caring. He shuddered and looked to Allura who was patting Keith’s back. 

“So, this means practice is over, right?” Lance said, trying to cover the breathlessness he was feeling. He could still feel where Keith had pressed up against him the night before while they slept. 

Allura sighed, aggravated by Lance’s question. She turned back to him, glaring into him so harshly that Lance almost stepped back. 

“Yes, fine. Go dismiss everyone,” she demanded, turning her attention back to Keith was now rinsing his mouth with the water Lance had provided. 

“See you Monday!” He called, running back into the gym. 

 

/ / 

“Sooooooo,” Lance said with a wicked grin on his face. He was laid out on his bed, freshly showered and in a pair of clean sweatpants. He felt a thousand times better than he had before practice. Maybe exercise was the secret hangover cure, but Lance wasn’t eager to test that theory. He rolled over onto his stomach, clutching his pillow to his chest and looking across the room at Hunk. “Did our room get a good show last night?” 

Hunk, with his back to Lance, froze. His fingers halted over his laptop’s keyboard. Lance could see the blush crawl up the back of Hunk’s neck and his grin split his face even wider. 

“You dirty dog!” Lance said, jolting up and sitting cross-legged on his little bed. “How’d you seal the deal?”

Hunk swiveled in his chair, a knowing look on his face. He knew that Lance could talk about the topic of sex for hours at a time, maybe even days, and Hunk wasn’t going to indulge him. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” Hunk said. 

“What do you mean you’re not telling me anything! I want details!” Lance said, offended by Hunk’s secretive side. 

“I don’t want to jinx it,” Hunk explained. “I also don’t want you telling everyone about it.” This felt too close to an accusation for Lance and he pounced to squash it. 

“I can keep a secret!” Lance demanded. “I have lots of secrets!” 

“Good. I don’t need to know them. Just like you don’t need to know mine,” Hunk said. He knew that Lance had no secrets. Lance was an open book. 

“Fine,” Lance pouted. 

“We’re going out again tonight,” Hunk offered, turning back to his computer. 

“That’s great, buddy!” Lance said. “You need the room?”

Hunk shook his head. 

“I won’t kick you out two nights in a row. Oh, that reminds me,” Hunk spun back around to Lance. “How was your night with Keith and Shiro?” There was suspicion in his voice that Lance didn’t really understand. There was something accusatory and mischievous in his eyes that made Lance feel like making excuses. 

“Pidge was there too,” Lance said. “Nothing happened after everyone left. We just slept.” Lance didn’t know why he felt so defensive but he tried to sound casual. 

“Huh,” was all that Hunk responded with, turning back to the document that was on his computer. 

“What?!” Lance asked.

“Nothing.” 

 

/ / 

 

“You ready to go?” Shiro asked. He was waiting in his car out front of the dorms, his phone to his ear. He rolled down his window when he saw Pidge lugging a full laundry hamper out of the front door. She had her phone cradled between her shoulder and her ear. 

“Here I come,” she grumbled, struggling with the large hamper. 

Shiro hung up. He was now within shouting distance to Pidge. 

“Need help?” He asked loudly and Pidge paused, putting her phone back in her pocket. 

“NO,” she called back. She was almost at the car now, hobbling against the hamper with every step. 

She got to the car and shoved the hamper in the back before sliding into the passenger seat beside Shiro. 

“You spending the night?” Shiro asked and Pidge nodded. 

“Dad’s gonna bring me back on Monday in time for practice. You staying over?” She asked back. 

“I don’t think so. I have to prep Keith for his financial aid hearing tomorrow.” 

“Mom’s making roast beef,” Pidge tempted. 

“Oh, I’ll definitely stay for dinner,” Shiro laughed. 

Pidge leaned up, turning up the radio as Shiro pulled away from the curb and onto the main road. It wasn’t a long ride home, only an hour or so, but Shiro’s stomach was in knots the whole time. 

They rode in comfortable silence for most of the ride but as Shiro began tapping his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel, Pidge spoke. 

“He’s not mad at you,” Pidge said. “He’s not.” 

“I know,” Shiro said, giving Pidge an unconvincing half-smile. 

“He’s excited to see you,” Pidge said. “It’s all he’s been talking about. ‘Quarterback Shiro, the best in the world,’” She said, imitating her brother. “He still thinks of you guys as a team, the best Quarterback and Half-back that VU will ever see.” 

“Not anymore,” Shiro said, his voice dipping into a self-pitying depression. 

“Don’t be so negative,” Pidge said, her own voice dipping. “It’s not good for him.” 

“You’re right,” Shiro said, shaking his head a little to clear it. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.” This time when he smiled at Pidge, it was a little more sincere. 

“If Keith was here, he’d kick your ass for being such a downer,” Pidge joked. 

 

/ / 

 

With Hunk gone, Lance found his room to be lonelier than he’d ever imagined it could be. It was Saturday night and he was bored and alone. Usually he spent weekends with Hunk, hopping parties or just hanging out. Instead of staying in and feeling sorry for himself, he sent a text to Hunk that the room would be empty if he needed it, and left in a pair of loose joggers and a sweatshirt. 

He walked across campus toward the cheer gym. He expected it to be empty and locked, what with it being Saturday night and all, but a light was on in the entry hall and when he pulled the door, it opened. 

He popped his headphones out of his ears and followed the lights down the hallway. They led to an office that Lance had never been in before. He peaked his head in and saw Allura sitting there, her head bowed down over some papers and a thick binder. 

Trying not to startle her, he knocked lightly at the door. She looked up quickly, but didn’t start at his sudden appearance. Her eyes were wide but when she saw who was waiting, they fell into a warm expression. It was one of the only times Lance had seen Allura smiling at him like that, fondly. 

“Lance,” she greeted. “What are you doing here so late?” She folded her hands over the paperwork and waited for a response. Lance couldn’t help but notice how mature she looked sitting behind her desk. It was hard for him to believe that she was only two years older than him. It felt like she was eons ahead of him. 

“I came to practice the halftime dance,” Lance said. 

While the lifts and jumps and stunts had all gotten easier with practice, the dance routine remained difficult for him. Cheer dancing was different than the dancing that he was used to. He couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times his older cousins had snuck him into the Latin Dance clubs where they lived or the times he’d salsa danced in his kitchen with his family, but this dance was so different than that. Cheer wasn’t free and loose. It wasn’t quick feet and smooth arm movements. Cheer dancing was all sharp elbows and hitting your mark at the same exact time, every single time. He didn’t want to fall behind and flub his moves because of it. He didn’t want to drag down his team because of his self-confidence issues. 

“Really?” Allura asked, surprised. Lance nodded. 

“Surprised?” He asked. 

“Honestly, yes. I am,” Allura said. She stood up and began swooping her hair into a tight ponytail. “The way you ran out of practice this afternoon, it’s hard to believe you’re here when you don’t have to be.” There was no cruelty in her voice, no pettiness or agitation. She was just telling him the truth and he could appreciate that. “Come on, I’ll run through the dance with you. I could use some more practice too.” 

“Really?” Lance asked, shocked. “You need practice?” He asked. 

“Sure. Everyone needs practice,” Allura said, leading him toward the gym. 

“But, you made up the routine, didn’t you?” Lance asked. 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have it down perfectly. There’s always room for improvement.” 

 

/ / 

 

Hunk was washing dishes, his hands submerged in Shay’s sudsy kitchen sink. Her apartment was small and her kitchen was just barely big enough for the both of them, but it was a kitchen and that was more than what Hunk had. He handed a dish off to the left and Shay took it, drying it with a dish towel. 

“You’re a really good cook,” Shay said. “I’ve never had Latin food before. My friends and I normally grab Mexican food from Pablo’s in town. This was way better.” She leaned over, nudging her shoulder against Hunk’s as they did the dishes together. It felt like they were already an old married couple. It was familiar and sweet and they both enjoyed the calmness that the other brought. 

“Thanks,” Hunk said bashfully. “Lance’s mom taught me. It’s a family recipe.” 

“Oh, talking about Lance, how did his night go last night? I saw him at practice in one piece this morning,” Shay said with a smile. 

“Yeah, he was fine. Shiro took him, Keith, and Pidge in for the night. I guess they all crashed when everyone else left,” Hunk answered as he rinsed a dented saucepan. 

Shay giggled and Hunk sent her a confused look. 

“What’s funny?” Hunk asked.

“Shiro didn’t really ‘take Keith in.’ Keith almost always spends the night at Shiro’s, and if Keith isn’t at Shiro’s then Shiro is at Keith’s,” Shay explained. “They’re the team’s Power Couple.” 

“I thought so!” Hunk said, pausing his dishwashing to give all his attention to Shay and her bit of gossip. “I didn’t want to ask, just in case they weren’t public about it.” 

“They don’t flaunt it, neither of them are very into pda, but it’s not a secret,” Shay said. “We’ve all been subjected to accidentally walking in on one of their make-out sessions,” she laughed. 

“Just wait till Lance finds out, he’ll flip his lid,” Hunk said, turning back to the dishes. 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, not in a bad way,” Hunk said, noticing how Shay’s eyebrows had furrowed in worry. “He just thinks that Shiro is THE ultimate straight jock. Lance has had a crush on him ever since he first laid eyes on him during our freshman orientation, whether he admits it or not. He’s also convinced himself that Shiro and Allura have something going on.” 

“Shiro and Allura?” Shay asked, her yes going wide. “No way! Never. They’re practically brother and sister.” 

“Who else on the team is dating?” Hunk asked. He wiped his hands dry on the dishtowel that Shay was using to dry the last fork. Shay leaned back against the counter, focusing too much on drying as she spoke. 

“Well, Nyma has an on and off fling with Rolo, but that changes every other day. And, there’s us,” Shay said quietly. “Hopefully.” 

Hunk smiled, leaning in for a quick kiss. Shay smiled into it. 

“Yeah, there’s us,” Hunk answered. 

 

/ / 

 

“Show it to me again?” Allura requested. They’d gone through the song once together, then Lance had gone alone so Allura could critique him. This was his third time dancing alone and he was feeling more and more self-conscious after each go. 

After each run of the song, Allura had nitpicked something that he’d done wrong. This time was no different. He ran through the dance, his heart not entirely in it. He was starting to regret wanting to put in extra time at the gym. 

“You’re moving your hips too much,” Allura said. Lance was just past the halfway point in the dance but he stopped dead, scrubbing his hands along his face. 

“Sorry,” he huffed, the word coming out muffled between his hands. He took a deep breath and got in position to pick up where he’d left off. 

“Stop,” Allura said just before Lance could pick up again. He paused, confused. “Where did you learn to dance?” 

“What?” Lance asked, confusion coloring his expression. 

“Where did you learn to dance?” Allura asked again. “You’re very good.” 

“Really?” Lance asked in disbelief. “But, I can’t get this dance right.” 

“Yeah, but it’s obviously not the kind of dancing you first learned. Dancing is kind of like a language,” Allura said. “If you’ve been speaking one language for your whole life, it can be hard to learn a new one. You have habits that stick with you. It’s the same way with dancing. Your muscle memory is telling your body to do one thing, even if your head is telling you to do another.”

“I’m going to go again,” Lance said, his confidence replenished by Allura’s little lesson.

“Okay, let’s do it together,” Allura said, stepping up beside Lance.

“You’ll have to buy me dinner first,” Lance said with a smirk. Allura smiled despite trying to stay straight faced and Lance beamed at that. 

“Just dance,” she said before beginning the eight count. 

Lance was concentrating harder this time, remembering the moves the way that Allura had showed him, trying to remember that this wasn’t club dancing and that he was aiming for precision. 

“My mom taught me,” Lance said as they danced their way through the middle of the song. 

“Huh?” Allura asked, turning her head to him. Neither of them stopped dancing, they kept moving through the steps. 

“My mom taught me how to dance when I was little. Then she worked in the office of a dance studio and got all of my sibling into lessons. That was when we were all young though,” Lance said. 

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Allura said. “You miss her, don’t you?” 

Lance smiled, remembering the way his mom spoke and smelled and gave hugs. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I do. It’s stupid. My parents aren’t even that far away. Just a few hours. You know, out of the suburbs and stuff. My dad bought farm land when they got here, wanted us kids to be able to run around and be kids. He didn’t have that where he grew up.” 

“Where did he grow up?” Allura asked. The music stopped and they both hit their marks a little bit out of time, but Allura didn’t say anything. She was interested in what Lance had to say. In all the time she’d known him, he’d never said anything particularly interesting at all. He was always flirting or bickering or cracking jokes. She’d never seen him so sincere as he was when talking about his family. 

“Cuba,” Lance said. He headed for the bleachers where a water bottle waited for him. Allura followed, sitting down and waiting for the rest of his story as he drank. “My mom and dad both left there for America. They wanted a better life for their family.” 

“So, you don’t have any other family here?” Allura asked. 

“Some. A few aunts and uncles followed, but they’re down south. Didn’t have the balls to follow my parents up north, I guess,” Lance joked. “We see them sometimes. And last year, I went with my dad to Cuba and met my grandparents for the first time.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Allura said. 

“Yeah. Sometimes I can’t imagine what it must have been like for my parents when they came here. They left everything, their homes, their families. I mean, I get homesick for my parents and I can visit them or call them whenever I want. Hell, my dad comes down for every baseball game,” Lance paused, his stomach tightening at the thought of his father finding out that he no longer played that great, all-American game. 

Allura didn’t say anything. What could she say? She was living in a fantasy as Lance told his story. She was daydreaming about getting to see her parents again, getting to hear their voices just one more time, to be surrounded by family. 

“Sorry,” Lance said, knocking them both away from their murky memories. “I’m talking your ear off.” 

“It’s alright,” Allura said with a smile. “It was nice to learn more about you.” 

“It’s not alright,” Lance said, feigning disapproval. “We’ve got a dinner reservation to get to if you want to ‘do it together,’ remember?” Lance grinned over at Allura. He only had half the energy he usually did when trying to flirt, so it came across as harmless, good-natured even, and Allura did smile at this one. 

“I should get back to my work,” Allura said, standing from the bench. 

“What are you working on in there?” Lance asked. 

“Just budgeting things. We need to rent a bus for competition season,” Allura answered. “Right now, it looks like we’ll be sharing rides to our first competition. If we can get Pidge’s dad to help out, we’ll have enough cars to get us back and forth.” 

“Why don’t we fundraise?” Lance asked. “You know, like a Bikini carwash? Isn’t that something that cheerleaders do?” 

“A what?” Allura asked. 

“A bikini carwash,” Lance confirmed. “What? You’ve never heard of a bikini carwash?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff gets REAL in the next chapter. GET READY FOR IT.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Find out more about Shiro's past and Keith's future.  
> Also, Lance realizes things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aye it's been almost three months but I'm BACK BABY

“MATT!” Pidge yelled, tromping up the stairs of her childhood home. “MAAAATT!” She yelled again, her voice lowering to a comical bass tone. 

Shiro followed her up the stairs. He was slower, observing the photos that lined the stairwell. He hadn’t been in this house in so long. Too long. It felt like a lifetime ago. He’d been a different person the last time he’d visited Matt here. 

If it weren’t for the track that led up the stairs, there wouldn’t have been any change in the home at all. The same pictures, the same patterned rug lining the wooden stairs, the same smells and colors. 

The photos that Shiro was inspecting were mostly family pictures. One was taken at a pumpkin patch, one at a county fair, and plenty of them taken in front of a Christmas tree. There were a few of Pidge and Matt on the beach, all loose tooth grins and sunburns. The very last photo hanging in the stairwell struck Shiro, making his slow movement grind to a halt. He felt his breath leave his lungs as he stared into his own smiling face. 

The picture was taken in another life, both him and Matt in their football uniforms. They had wide smiles on their faces, their unmarred faces. It was taken at their last game together. Shiro couldn’t help but reach up and touch the long pink scar that stretched over his nose and across his cheeks. It was a fleshy bump beneath his fingertips that reminded him of what had happened to them.

Shiro wanted nothing more than to slam the photo into the nearest drawer, to hide it so he wouldn’t have to look at it ever again, just like he’d done with his own copy. But this wasn’t his house and it wasn’t his photo and the Holts must have kept it up for a reason.

He stepped up into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. He tried his hardest to ignore the chair that waited by the top step. It waited menacingly on its track, another reminder to Shiro. 

“Shiro! Hurry up, will you?!” Pidge called from inside Matt’s room. 

Shiro could feel the nervous sweat running cold down the small of his back at the sight of Matt’s ajar door. He tried to swallow down the nerves and prepare himself for what he knew was waiting for him. But no amount of preparation could help. When he stepped into the room, he still felt shell-shocked at the sight of Matt. 

Matt turned his head, looking up at Shiro, a big grin on his face. He was seated in front of his computer, his glasses on and smudged with fingerprints. But that wasn’t what kept Shiro’s breath trapped in his lungs. No, it was the set of wheels that were now second nature to Matt. His waist was strapped with a thick black band to the wheelchair that he was now dependent on. 

Shiro smiled back. He tried as hard as he could to look convincing, but he knew Matt didn’t buy it. Matt knew him better than that. 

“Hi,” Shiro said. He knew that his voice was off. He sounded almost shy.

“Pidge, go tell mom that you’re here,” Matt said, tossing an eraser from his desk at her. “Me and Shiro will meet you downstairs.”

Pidge huffed out a complaint but didn’t turn down the request. She hopped up from Matt’s bed and left to the kitchen where their mother was undoubtedly preparing dinner. 

“You’ve finally worked up the balls to visit me, huh?” Matt asked, a smile still stretched across his face. “The famous Takashi Shirogane came to face his dark past?” 

Shiro ducked his head. He was supposed to be happy, he was supposed to cheer Matt up. Pidge had said specifically not to be a downer. Yet, here he was, clenching his jaw and trying not to cry. He knew that Matt was joking. He was poking fun at Shiro and the situation that had left himself chair bound and Shiro scarred, but Shiro just wasn’t there yet. He couldn’t crack jokes. 

The last time he’d seen Matt was nearly two years ago. Matt had been walking, running, scoring winning points for the homecoming game. Now, Matt was practically confined to his childhood home, stuck in a chair, and it was all Shiro’s fault. 

“I’m so sorry,” Shiro said with a tight voice. He still couldn’t look up at Matt. He covered his face and ground his teeth together, waiting for the lump in his throat to go down. 

Matt pushed at his wheels, moving farther away from his desk and crossing the room toward Shiro. The only sound in the room was wheels on the hardwood floor. He stopped in front of Shiro, resting a hand on his arm. 

“You didn’t tell me to get in that car,” Matt said, “and if you have been waiting to visit me because you though I was mad at you, you should have come sooner because I’ve never blamed you for what happened.” 

“If I hadn’t gone that night, you would still-” Shiro began, his voice made gruff with his blocked throat. 

“No. I would have gone with or without you that night,” Matt said. He pulled at Shiro’s arm and Shiro allowed his arm to fall from his face. “You weren’t at fault, Shiro.” 

“I’m so sorry, Matt,” Shiro said again. 

“Shut up,” Matt groaned with a smile. “And would you look at that gash on your face? God, I may not be able to walk, but at least I don’t have that ugly thing. Katie said you got messed up but damn, I didn’t know you got that pretty face all torn up.” 

Shiro smiled at that, laughed a little, even. 

“It’s not the worst that I got, but it’s the most obvious, huh?” Shiro said with a smile. 

“It sure is something,” Matt said. “I bet girls like it though, they probably think you look all heroic.” 

Shiro’s eyes widened. God, he really was a different person back when he was always with Matt. 

“Katie didn’t tell you?” Shiro asked, Pidge’s real name sounding foreign on his tongue. “I’m actually out of the dating game. Have been for a while.” 

“No way! Let me guess, she’s from Canada? You met her online and it’s a long distance thing, right? What’s her name? Emily Smith?” Matt asked, excitement flaring in his eyes as he joked with Shiro.

“Keith,” Shiro answered. He laughed at Matt’s shocked expression. 

“Keith!?” Matt asked. “Oh man, now it really is looking like I got the better end of the accident. Bumped your head pretty bad, did you?” Matt joked. 

“You should see him,” Shiro said. “He’s beautiful.” 

“Good for you, man,” Matt said in earnest. “Just wait until you meet my girl.” 

“You’ve got a girl?” It was Shiro’s turn to be shocked. He’d imagined that Matt had been lonely in the last few years, that he had been depressed, or shut himself off from the world. But he was still radiant and funny and energetic. It was Shiro who had changed. 

“Don’t look so surprised!” Matt laughed, giving Shiro’s arm a playful punch. “She writes a blog and interviewed me about the ‘seedy underbelly’ of college sports,” he explained, his voice lowering into a comically creepy tone. “I guess she just couldn’t get enough of me.” 

“You’ve gotten really cocky, you know that?” Shiro asked with a laugh. 

“And you’ve gotten soft, gushing about your boyfriend before you can even ask how I’ve been.” 

Shiro was about to shoot another snarky comment to Matt when they heard Mrs. Holt call up to them from downstairs. 

“Shiro! Come on down and say hello! It’s been too long!” She called and Matt swooped by Shiro and toward the stairs. 

“Can’t keep up?” Matt asked as he passed. 

 

/ / 

 

“Nyma asked me out,” Lance said. 

He’d been tapping his pencil on his desk, waiting for Hunk to notice him, but Hunk’s head stayed stuck in his own textbook until Lance spoke up. 

“Oh. Really?” Hunk asked, somewhat surprised.

Lance pouted, huffing out a sigh. 

“I’m a catch,” Lance said, mistaking Hunk’s surprise for disbelief. 

“No! No, I know you are!” Hunk said, spinning around in his chair to give Lance his full attention. “I just thought she was kind of, pre-occupied, is all,” Hunk tried to explain. 

“Yeah, well, she’s going to be occupied by me now,” Lance said, wiggling his eyebrows at Hunk. Lance paused, processing what Hunk had said. “Wait, pre-occupied by what?” he asked. 

“No, it’s nothing,” Hunk said. “I just don’t know about Nyma. There’s just something off about her.” 

“No way, dude. She’s hot and super into me,” Lance said. 

“When are you going out?” Hunk asked. 

“Well,” Lance said, holding out the ‘l’s and turning back to his desk. He rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t really set up a date, date. But she wants me to be her base, that’s something, right?” 

“I don’t know,” Hunk said nervously. “It sounds like she just wants you to be her base.” He shrugged sympathetically. 

“No way!” Lance said, swinging back to face Hunk. “I’ll prove it! I’ll call her right now. She’s totally into me!” 

“Man, I don’t think you should,” Hunk said. “Shay says she’s got a thing for Rolo.” Hunk didn’t want to tell Lance that. He didn’t want to crush Lance’s idea of going out with Nyma, but it was in their Bro Code to tell each other these sorts of things. 

“No way,” Lance said. He was swiping through the contacts on his phone, looking for Nyma’s number to click on. He tapped it once and held his phone to his ear. “That guy? She’s totally too good for him.” 

Hunk opened his mouth to protest but Lance shushed him as Nyma picked up her phone. 

“Hey, Lance,” Nyma purred into the phone.

“Nyma!” Lance said, too excited. He cleared his throat and stopped making eye contact with Hunk. “Hey, what’s up?” He asked, lowering his voice so that he didn’t sound as eager as his initial greeting had suggested.

“I’m just studying,” she said. “What’s up with you?” 

Lance could hear some muffled voices in the background, probably the tv, he told himself, so he did what he’d said he’d do. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to like, go out together some time?” Lance asked. 

“Sure!” Nyma said, no hesitation. “I’m free mid week. We’ll go into town?” 

“Perfect!” Lance said, his voice betraying him once again. 

When they hung up, Lance looked back to Hunk. 

“Told you, she totally digs me.”

“Just be careful, okay, Lance?” Hunk asked, and even though Lance was waving Hunk’s worry off, he nodded. 

 

/ / 

 

Shiro parked out back of Keith’s place. He ignored the trash that lined the apartment building and used his key to get inside. He didn’t make eye contact with the old woman that was slamming the garbage shoot open and closed on the first floor. He’d occasionally ask if she needed help, but he knew that it was a cycle of him apologizing and her yelling slurs at him. He didn’t want to deal with that, no matter how much he wanted to help a confused old lady. 

He jogged up the steep and slanted stairs to Keith’s third floor apartment and slipped inside quietly. The apartment was dark except for a floor lamp that stood at full attention, the shade tilted and spilling light over Keith’s hunched frame. 

He sat on a white bed sheet. In one hand he held a canvas, propped up on his knee. The other held a paintbrush that moved across the canvas in long, relaxed strokes. Keith could also see a paintbrush bouncing lightly where Keith had it placed between his teeth. Splashes of paint and ink had made their way to the now dirty sheet below him. His bare back had a smear of charcoal on it. His neck had pastel colored paints decorating it. 

Shiro slipped his feet out of his heavy boots and quietly padded over to Keith, his socks muting his footsteps. He peered over Keith’s shoulders, careful not to obstruct the light of the floor lamp. 

He blushed when he saw Keith’s painting. On the mid-sized canvas, Keith was adding a thick layer of blush pink paint to his subject’s face. A scar. Shiro watched embarrassed and awed as Keith fleshed out the scar on Shiro’s face to near perfection. 

Keith pulled back, his spine straightening as he created more space between his eyes and his painting. Shiro couldn’t pull back fast enough and Keith leaned back against his legs. 

Keith didn’t jump. He’d known Shiro was there, watching him. He’d thought he’d heard Shiro when he first came in. Then, he’d smelled him, his cologne and something else. That was familiar, too. Pidge. Of course Shiro was carrying the smell of Pidge, he’d just been at her house. He’d been to see Matt. 

“How was it?” Keith asked, leaned back farther against Shiro’s legs like a cat. 

“It was,” Shiro paused. His eyes were still on the painting. “You knew me before the accident,” Shiro said. “Why do you always paint me with my scars?” 

“What’s wrong with your scars?” Keith asked. He set the painting down, the wet edges leaving a square of paint on the sheet. 

“I just thought that artists wanted to capture pure beauty. Nature and symmetry. Those types of things,” Shiro said. His eyes followed Keith as he stood and crossed the room. 

“You know how I feel about perfection,” Keith said. He knelt down in front of a file cabinet, pulling open the bottom drawer and thumbing through a mass of papers.

“That it’s messier and uglier than imperfection?” Shiro asked, knowing that was exactly what Keith felt about perfection. 

“Here,” Keith said, pulling a piece of paper from the files. It was folded four times and was brown and crinkly, like it had once been a paper lunch bag. The grease stain on the corner suggested that, in fact, it was. 

Shiro’s eyebrow quirked up but Keith wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he studied his nails, dipping charcoal out from under them, and leaning against the old file cabinet. He had a light blush on his face that spurred Shiro on to continue opening the folded page.

Keith was a magnificent artist. The scratchy pen on the paper perfectly captured Shiro. Not a single scar on his body nor his face. His jersey number was blocked on in unflinching black pen. In one sketch he was laughing, his football helmet tucked gingerly under his arm. Another had an outline of someone else, they were talking, Matt, maybe. It was too unfinished to tell for sure. 

And the last of the three sketches, displayed him stripping off his jersey, just in a black wife-beater and his dirty football pants. There wasn’t even a whisper of a scar on either arm. There was no cross-shaped split up his arm that most people assumed was no accident. But, looking down at that flawless drawing, he didn’t feel like that person anymore. 

“You used to draw me?” Shiro asked. 

“It was before I really knew you,” Keith explained. He still wasn’t looking at Shiro, embarrassed that he was revealing such a long-standing crush. “You were just my tutor back then. But I liked you. A lot.” 

“So, why don’t you still draw me like this?” Shiro asked. “You had my face down, even back then. Must have been a pain to relearn it all.” 

“I don’t draw you like that because that’s not your face anymore,” Keith said, looking fiercely into Shiro’s eyes. “That’s not the face I fell in love with.” 

“Do you think I’m different now?” Shiro asked. 

“Why is different bad?” Keith asked back. 

“I just don’t feel the same anymore. When I was with Matt tonight, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how we were before everything happened and what it would be like if he hadn’t gotten hurt. I didn’t realize how different I felt,” Shiro explained. 

“You’ve grown up, Shiro. You’ve gone through trauma. Don’t forget, you got hurt too,” Keith said. Keith took the drawing out of Shiro’s hands and folded it back up. 

“I paralyzed him. It was me that did that,” Shiro said through his teeth. 

Shiro could still see the accident. He could still see the truck heading for an inevitable end. He and Matt had been braced in the bed, trying not to get bounced out as they off-roaded in an unknown area. It was a sort of initiation into the team. Trust the team captain to drive you, lights off, in the middle of nowhere. It was stupid. 

Shiro’s first instinct had been to protect Matt. He saw the drop off coming, seemingly before anyone else did, and he’d done what his body told him to do, no thinking, just action. He could still sometimes feel his hand wrapped in Matt’s shirt, hoisting him up, too easily, from the bed of the truck and throwing him over the side. He saw Matt’s scared face in his dreams, looking betrayed and terrified as it disappeared to the dirt and rough that passed by at 50 mile’s per hour. 

And that’s where it happened, an injury sustained from Shiro’s preemptive actions as Matt landed on the cold ground and rolled, still conscious, without the use of his limbs. 

Shiro had no time to jump for himself. The truck was careening down the side of a cliff before any of his three teammates in the front seat had even seen it coming. He bore down in the bed of the truck, holding onto any place he could find purchase, but the truck was nearly in free fall, and as it began to tip, Shiro lost his place in the vehicle. 

It had all happened so quickly that Shiro couldn’t remember the rest except for small flashes. The rest was all dirt and twigs and his arm catching up on something. Then, it was over and he was laying somewhere, far from the others, bleeding near to death. He could see blood and muscle and nerves spilling out of his arm where they were supposed to be in it. Blood dripped into his eyes and all down his back. 

He remembered accepting that he would die there, alone, in a ditch. And still, he worried about Matt. 

“If you hadn’t thrown him out of the truck, he would have died in the crash,” Keith said, knocking Shiro from his memories. “You almost died in that crash.” 

Keith placed his hands on Shiro’s face, pointing his head down so they would catch eyes, but Shiro looked to the side, unable to look at Keith with the heavy grief he felt. He’d been told it wasn’t his fault a million times. It didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t ease the nightmares. It didn’t heal Matt’s damaged spine.

“I should have visited him sooner,” Shiro said. “I was so selfish.” 

“You needed to heal too.” 

“I was so scared of what would be left, but it was Matt. Matt was still there. I was so scared that he wouldn’t be,” Shiro said. He clenched his jaw, that familiar lump in his throat re-appearing. Keith twined his arms around Shiro’s waist, nuzzling his face into the spot where Shiro’s shoulder met his neck. 

“It’s okay,” Keith whispered. 

After standing like that, tangled together, for what felt like hours and seconds at the same time, Keith finally spoke again.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep,” he said, pulling away gently. 

In the corner of the studio apartment, Keith’s twin sized mattress sat alone. It looked cold without the sheets that were usually laying messily on it. 

“Where are your sheets?” Shiro asked, looking at the diamond pattern on the bare blue mattress that sat on the floor. 

“Oh. Right,” Keith said, turning to the paint dribbled sheets that waited beneath the floor lamp. “I used them to paint.” 

Shiro laughed, smiling for the first time since he’d seen Keith’s painting. 

 

/ / 

 

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea!” Coran said. He wiped his hands on the frilly pink apron tied around his waist and turned away from the oven to face Allura. 

She had been sitting with her elbows on the kitchen table, her head in her hands, her silver hair spilling through her fingers and onto the tabletop. Her shoulders were hunched with frustration but when Coran gave his opinion, Allura’s head snapped up. 

“Coran!” Allura gasped, scandalized by her uncle’s admission. Her eyes had gone wide but Coran just shrugged and chuckled at her response. He didn’t retract his opinion or show any guilt in the controversial subject.

“Lance has a point,” he began to explain. “A carwash would bring in funds for the team. Not to mention, it’d grow moral with the student body! Never underestimate the power of a fan, it could be the student body that convinces the board to keep the team afloat, after all.” 

“A bikini car wash is degrading!” Allura stressed, her eyebrows turning down.

“Oh pish posh!” Coran said, waving his hand playfully toward her. “It’s all in good fun! No one will mind if it’s for a good cause.” 

“I won’t subject my girls to it,” Allura said, her fists coming down on the table. “We shouldn’t have to be ogled to be treated as a valued team! The student body should support us for our talents not our bodies! We are athletes not eye candy!” 

Her unwavering stance made her sound angry, but Coran knew it came from a place of passion. He smiled and continued on with his playful tone, not stopping the conversation for her sudden outburst.

“Well, you’ve gotta draw the crowds in somehow!” He chirped. “The school finds your team intimidating and I think this is just the thing to prove you’re just a bunch of fun loving guys and gals!” 

“Intimidating?” Allura asked. Her shoulder’s dropped some tension as surprise took over. “People find us intimidating?” 

“Well, no. But they find you intimidating. You run your ship with an iron fist! And no one wants to get between a leader and her cause!” Coran explained. 

“But, I’m fun,” Allura said weakly, knowing it wasn’t entirely true. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something just for fun. It was always for work, or school, or the team. Each category gave their own rewards and, as a byproduct, fun. But it’d been so long since she’d done something just for the sake of fun. 

Coran said nothing, just looked at Allura with a wispy sort of smile. They both knew when she’d stopped doing things for fun’s sake. She’d begun pouring every ounce of herself into her future ever since her father had died two years ago. She hadn’t so much as slowed down in her conquest to make him proud. 

“Maybe you’re right, Coran,” Allura said solemnly. “Maybe the school does need to see my fun side.” 

 

/ / 

 

Keith bounced his leg up and down as he waited outside of the financial aid office. He knew what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to convince the college’s stingy financial aid granters of three things. One, that art was a legitimate major that could lead to a successful career. Two, that cheerleading took up enough time and effort to be worthy of a sports scholarship. And three, that, despite the odds, he wasn’t going to drop out of school. 

He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and kept bouncing his leg. He leaned back in the over-stuffed chair in the office and continued to wait. His meeting was supposed to start 15 minutes ago. Whoever would be interviewing him, was late. If it were him who was late, even by a few minutes, his appeal for more financial aid would be dropped immediately. He’d taken off work for this meeting and he really didn’t like his time being wasted. He tried not to look too grumpy about it. Unfortunately, his resting face was grumpy by default. 

“Mr. Kogane,” a man said, stepping into the room. Keith stood up immediately. That was polite, right? He remembered Shiro standing for people who entered rooms. 

“Hello, Sir,” Keith said. 

“I hope I haven’t kept you for too long. I’m afraid something came up,” the man said. It was a fake excuse. Keith could tell by the bored look in the man’s eyes. 

“That’s fine, sir” Keith said. 

“Come on in,” the man said, unlocking the door to the inner office. 

Keith sat down in front of the big dark desk. It looked heavy and expensive and he wanted to ask the man what right he had to have such nice furniture when students were just struggling to pay for food and shelter at this college. 

The man sat down in front of him, fiddling to loosen the cuff links on his shirt. They too looked expensive. His tie was emblazoned with a designers label, as was the pocket square he wore.

‘His outfit could pay for my whole tuition.’ Keith tried to push that thought away. He hated seeing people as money but some people made it hard to see anything else. 

“So, you want more financial aid from the school?” The man asked, pulling out a file with Keith’s name on the manila tab. 

“Yes, sir. I do.” 

“And can you tell me why you deserve more financial aid than other students?” The man asked. 

Keith hated this question. It made it sound like Keith was begging. It made it sound like Keith thought he deserved more than everyone else. It made Keith sound ungrateful for asking for help. That’s what it was supposed to sound like. These hearings weren’t meant to help the students. They were meant to make the student second-guess themselves. They were meant to make students say, ‘maybe I don’t deserve an education if I can’t pay for it.’ 

“I can’t speak for any other students,” Keith began, just like Shiro had coached him. ‘Patience yields focus. Don’t let them use your words against you. Think before you answer their questions.’ “But I think I could put that money to good use. I don’t have anyone to support me. I don’t have parents or family of any kind, so I am paying for everything on my own, which is difficult when you start out with nothing. I get good grades. I push myself to be the best in my field and I don’t think the school will regret offering more financial aid to my education.” 

“And you’re an art major?” The man asked. “Illustration?” 

“Yes, sir. I am.” 

“And you think that’s a smart career choice when you have no savings? When you’re starting ‘from nothing’ as you said?” 

“I think art used to be a bigger risk than what it is now,” Keith answered, keeping his cool under the conceited question. “The job market is so narrow right now in more traditional fields but with social media and an increased interest in art, I think that it’s as profitable a career choice as any.” 

“And you’re also vying for your cheerleading scholarship to be renewed. Do you know that your funding was cut this year?” The man’s voice droned as he flipped through the papers in the file before him. He licked his thumb and continued to shuffle the papers. 

“Yes, I’m aware,” Keith said, getting aggravated by the man’s lack of interest. This was his future, his life, and the man sat in front of him like he was a child asking for a toy. “The school cuts our funds every year. It just so happens that this year, I couldn’t bank it on what you’re scraping up for me.” 

The man looked up from his file, an eyebrow quirked in interest. He looked amused and smug and Keith’s stomach roiled with annoyance. 

“’Scraping up,’” the man quoted. He picked up a pen and tapped it on the thick file, filling the room with mute thuds as his face twisted into a thoughtful mask. “You think the school is wrong because they don’t give out tuitions on a whim?” He asked. 

“No,” Keith said, his hands flexing into tight fists in his lap. “I just think the school should focus their funds on the students, not on new labs and gyms.” Keith knew this wasn’t the right thing to say. He knew it wasn’t a topic to broach with the man who sat before him, so he quickly switched his pace. “Listen, if I don’t get the scholarship and the financial aid, I’ll have to drop out,” Keith said, his voice strained.

“So, you are thinking of dropping out,” the man said. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement and it sent Keith spiraling. That wasn’t what he said. It wasn’t what he meant. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!” Keith said, rushing to fix his mistake, but the man spoke over him. 

“It sounds to me like you are trying to glide by on this financial aid. Thousands of students are working to put themselves through college, have you thought of getting a job?” 

“I have a job!” Keith snarled. “I work for the school. Work study. But it’s not enough to live on, let alone pay tuition! I barely make rent every month as it is. And with my job, full time classes, and cheer, I don’t have time for another job. I barely have enough time to sleep as it is!” 

“Maybe you have too much on your plate. Did you think of putting your cheerleading career to rest?” 

“If I quit cheer, I can’t get a sports scholarship. If I don’t have a sports scholarship, I’ll have to get a real job. I’d be making less at a job than what a scholarship could get me. I’d be in the same boat as I am right now.” 

“So, if you don’t get this scholarship, you’re just going to give up? It seems to me that you’re trying to get by with as little work as possible. You’re looking for a free ride.” 

Keith leapt to his feet. His face was growing red with anger. He slammed his palms on the desk but the man didn’t flinch.

“No! You’re twisting my words around! I need the scholarship because without it I have to quit school, quit cheer! I do not have the hours in a day to be a full time student and work enough hours to make enough for my tuition and books and supplies! And I would give up sleep if I could, really, I would! But I can’t. I can not physically do that! I am pushing as hard as I can! I want an education, I want to learn, I do! But I need help god dammit!”

The man tapped his pen a few times on the folder again, looking up at Keith’s red face. He leaned back in his chair, his fingertips resting on each other as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. Keith took a deep breath in the silence before returning to his own seat. 

‘Apologize!’ Keith thought to himself, yelling it in his head. But he was too stubborn. He couldn’t bring his lips to mouth the words. Finally, the man spoke.

“I think that you’re taking on too much. It might be good for you to take off a semester or two to save up money. Unfortunately, it’s too much of a risk for us to offer you the extra aid. Have you tried getting a loan?”

Keith ground his teeth down into each other, grinding them together and squeezing his eyes closed. He could feel the crescent marks that his fingernails left on his palm as his hands curled tighter than before. 

The meeting was over. He’d been dismissed. He couldn’t hold it together for half an hour to convince some prick to give him some money. He stood, staring at the floor as he left. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance sat in class, tapping his pencil on his scantron and wondering if the answer was a or b. He was sure it couldn’t be d but the statistic possibility that it could be c was also luring him in. Teachers loved making the answers c on scantron sheets. He put his pencil in his mouth, chewing on the yellow painted wood before making his final decision. He marked down b and got up out of his seat to hand the test to the teacher. 

When he stepped out into the hall, his confidence from a finish test diminished almost immediately. Crowded in a misshapen circle was a group from his past team. They all wore their baseball caps wherever they went, marking them as some kind of elite. It was pretentious, is what it was, and Lance felt embarrassed for ever joining in on the practice. 

“Oh, look, one of the slut brigade,” one of them said, nodding over to Lance as their eyes met. “Say, he looks familiar, doesn’t he, boys?” 

Lance sighed and rolled his eyes before moving over to the group that now stared him down like a pack of hyenas. 

“Hey, Lotor,” Lance said to the boy who’d spoke. “How’s baseball going?” He asked. He didn’t care, but he knew that the boys would follow him and harass him anyway if he didn’t acknowledge them. It was better to get it done and over with now. 

“Lance, we heard you made the switch,” Lotor said. “Of course, it’s not hard to believe you fell in with a bunch of fairies.” 

Lance smiled as best as he could, faking a laugh to blend in with the other boys. His eyes left Lotor’s, scanning over the other boys wryly, but he could still feel Lotor’s cold eyes on him.

“That’s a good one,” Lance said. “Alright, I’ll see you later, I guess.” Lance took a step back, shooting a quick wave to the boys. 

“Yeah, it’s a real shame you won’t be on the field with us next Thursday. We’ll really miss all the home runs that you pitch,” Lotor said sarcastically. 

“Suck a big one, Lotor,” Lance said over his shoulder, casually flipping the bird to the whole team. 

It wasn’t threatening or particularly aggressive, so Lance didn’t expect Lotor’s heavy hand to come down hard on his shoulder, swinging him back around to face the team. 

Lance jerked away, putting a few inches between himself and Lotor. Behind the adrenaline that was now thrumming through his body and pounding in his ears, he could hear a bell ringing over the intercom. 

Lotor stepped forward, grabbing at the front of Lance’s shirt and tugging him in close. Lance could feel Lotor’s long hair ghosting across his face like spider legs.

“If we weren’t about to be surrounded, I would beat the shit out of you, you fucking groupie.” 

And just like that, Lotor let go of Lance’s shirt, shoving him away, and the halls filled with tired students that swept away the remnants of a squabble.

Lance didn’t want to admit that he was shaken, but he’d never been in a fight before and his hands were shaking from the lack of action. 

“Hey,” a voice said, coming up behind him. A soft hand landed on his shoulder and he jerked away. 

Keith put his hand back in his pocket, his hand tingling with the rejection. 

“You okay?” Keith asked. 

He’d noticed Lance, standing stock still in the middle of a churning crowd as he left his classroom. He’d noticed his hands shaking. 

“I just got into a fight,” Lance said, plastering a fake smile on his face when he saw that the new attention was from Keith and not another baseball player. 

“With who? Yourself?” Keith said. He hadn’t seen anyone around Lance the whole time he’d been in his line of vision. 

“PSH, No!” Lance said. “With Lotor, I totally won. He ran off,” Lance lied. 

This got Keith’s attention. 

“Baseball Lotor?” Keith asked, as if there was another ‘Lotor’ in their state, let alone on their campus. 

“Yeah, what of it? You impressed or what?” Lance asked. 

“Has he been stalking you?” Keith asked, his voice dropping into a gravely serious tone.

“What? No, he was just,” Lance’s sentence dropped off. 

Sure, running into a familiar student in an academic building wasn’t uncommon. But this was mainly a science building. It housed a few art classes in the basement, but besides that, there was nothing there for the baseball team, which was made up of mainly business majors. And Lotor had been standing menacingly in the hallway of a building that Lance had never seen him in before.  
“No,” Lance said, looking at Keith like he was crazy. “Why would the baseball team be stalking me?” He left off his reasoning of ‘they hate me.’ But Keith had begun talking again. 

“The baseball team? I thought you said it was just Lotor,” Keith asked. 

“Does it matter?” Lance said, beginning to feel stupid and caught in his ‘I won a fight’ lie. 

“Yes, it matters. They’re going to harass you. You were on the team for like two years. You know how they act around people who quit the team,” Keith said. They were shuffling along now, down the long hallway.

“The only other person who quit was you,” Lance said blankly. 

“Yeah, and they cut the brakes on my bike,” Keith said. “What? You weren’t part of that ‘prank?’” 

“I never hung out with them outside of practice. I wasn’t ever invited,” Lance admitted. 

“Oh.” 

“Listen,” Lance said defensively, “Don’t feel sorry for me. I didn’t like those guys anyway!” 

“I don’t feel bad for you,” Keith said, rolling his eyes. 

Lance was done with classes for the day, but he found himself winding down the eerie basement stairs, following Keith as they talked. 

“I’m actually kind of impressed that you didn’t try to worm your way in to their group. You seem like the type who wants to be popular,” Keith mumbled.

“Well, I’m not!” This, too, was a lie. He had tried many times to get invites to whatever the team was doing but it was always top secret, no freshmen allowed. And when he was a sophomore, it was always kept hush hush until the day after. He couldn’t crash a party he didn’t know about, after all. “Who would want to hang out with those jerks, anyway?” 

“Listen, just stay away from them, okay?” Keith asked. He stopped in front of a classroom door. The whole hallway was dingy and smelled a little like mildew and sandalwood incense. Through the small glass panel on the door, Lance could see that the lights in the classroom were dimmed to a near non-existence. “If you see them, walk the other way. If they keep popping up, call me or Shiro, okay?”

“I don’t need you to babysit me, pipsqueak,” Lance laughed, making a point to eye up Keith’s height, which was only an inch or so shorter than his own. “I can take care of myself you know.” 

“Just call us, okay? Those guys, they’re not good guys. Got it?” 

Something about the gravity in Keith’s voice made Lance take him seriously, his smile melting as he nodded. 

“Yeah, okay,” Lance said. 

“This is my class,” Keith said, nodding to the darkened classroom behind him. “Thanks for walking me, sport,” he added sarcastically. 

“I DIDN’T WALK YOU!” Lance shot back defensively. 

“You’re kidding, right? I’m surprised you didn’t ask to hold my books,” Keith said. 

“And risk getting in trouble for marijuana possession? No thanks. Now, do you smoke pot before class, or during?” 

“Bye, Lance,” Keith said and escaped into the classroom. 

 

/ / 

 

Pidge pulled her arms over her head, bending to one side, then the other, feeling a slight stretch in each side. She was waiting for the rest of the team to gather up. Almost everyone was in one conversation or another, even Allura. 

Allura’s eyebrows were pinched close to each other as she spoke with Coran. She looked frustrated. Pidge had a few ideas why. For starters, she didn’t do anything fun outside of school and practice. But more importantly, the competition season was starting and Allura still had no idea how to transport everyone to and from different competition venues. 

When Allura finally took her place in front of her lined-up team, Nyma and Lance had taken spots on either side of Pidge. She already felt nauseous at the thought of Lance sending flirty looks over her to Nyma. 

“Hey, team!” Allura called, getting everyone’s attention. She had left her displeased expression with Coran and was now smiling brightly at everyone in front of her. “The competition schedule is officially in!” This was met with a chorus of short cheers. “Our first competition is next week at DCU.” 

Beside Pidge, Nyma crossed her arms. Pidge glanced up at her, her head moved with a snotty upturn of her nose. 

“And how are we getting there?” Nyma asked loudly, the rest of the team quieted in expectant, and some worried, curiosity. 

“Well,” Allura said, her voice faltering just the slightest bit. “We’re going to have to carpool for this one.” Allura’s voice was apologetic but Nyma rolled her eyes.

“Great, so the other teams can see the Voltron Losers pull up in their clown cars and pile out. Nothing like psyching out the competition,” Nyma said. “Do we even have enough cars? Or is someone going to be strapped to the top of your old junker?” 

At that, Allura huffed out a tired sigh. Leave it to Nyma to cause a fuss. 

“Pidge’s parents offered to drive some of us, actually,” Allura said back, venom in her voice. 

“Oh, so we get to get dropped off by mom and dad? Super cool.” 

Pidge looked to her other side. Lance didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. His eyes were stationed on the back wall of the gym. His eyes were half lidded, bored. 

“Lance?” Pidge said, nudging Lance with her elbow as Allura and Nyma passive-aggressively spoke to each other. “You there, space cadet?” 

“Huh?” Lance asked, blinking back to reality. He looked down at Pidge, looking confused, and still not entirely there. 

“You’re missing your girlfriends’ fighting,” Pidge said sarcastically, knowing the comment would bring Lance to. 

“My girlfriends?” Lance said, tuning in to the argument going on in front of them. A greasy smirk crossed his face and he nudged Pidge back. “Yeah, they must be fighting over me again. Who can blame them with these good looks?” He winked at Pidge and she rolled her eyes. Lance was back, but she wondered at what cost as he continued his predatory smirk. 

After Allura had gone through a few more points, she ordered the line to break up and get into position for their competition piece. 

Before Pidge could escape the line, Lance nudged her once more. 

“Hey, Allura said next week right? Did she say what day?” Lance asked. 

“Thursday,” Pidge answered. She noticed Lance’s face fall back into that confused, far off look again. “What’s wrong? Got a date?” She asked sarcastically. 

Lance ruffled her hair and laughed off her comment. But he didn’t answer her. He just ran off to his spot in the back corner of their formation. 

 

/ / 

 

“You okay?” Shiro asked. “You were quiet at practice today.” 

“I’m always quiet,” Keith answered. He didn’t look at Shiro, he hadn’t been able to since the meeting with the financial department. He’d lied to him, that the meeting had gone fine, that he didn’t know yet what they’d decided, but he hadn’t looked at Shiro to see if he’d believed him. He shucked off his sweaty shirt and threw it into his locker and tried not to be over-aware of every move that Shiro made toward him.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Shiro asked. “What really happened at that meeting?” 

Keith huffed out a sigh but didn’t answer. He looked toward the locker room door, hoping that someone else would come in, but he knew that they were the last ones. They’d been the last stragglers at practice, rolling up the mats and putting them away. Keith could have been quicker with it, but Shiro was all ‘rules and regulations’ and ‘if you can’t do it right, I’ll do it alone.’ 

“Keith,” Shiro pressed, leaning up against the locker beside Keith. 

“It’s nothing, forget about it,” Keith said. His voice was rough with agitation. 

“Keith, talk to me,” Shiro pushed. He put a finger beneath Keith’s chin, trying to angle his face so that their eyes would meet, but Keith pulled away. 

“Drop it, Shiro,” Keith demanded. Shiro said nothing, and even though it was what Keith had asked of him, Keith felt himself tremble under Shiro’s heavy gaze. 

He slammed his locker closed, twice, and rucked his hands through his tangled hair. His fingers got stuck in a few places and he had to yank them through roughly. Shiro gave him a moment to compose himself and Keith finally took a deep breath and looked up at Shiro. His eyes were so suddenly calm that Shiro could feel a shiver go down his spine. 

“I’m dropping out,” Keith said. 

Shiro was sure he’d heard wrong. Keith’s number one goal since they’d met was to graduate, to get a degree, to prove to everyone that he was more than a statistic. 

“No,” Shiro said back, as if it had been a question. 

“This is why I didn’t say anything,” Keith sighed. “It’s done. I’m not getting the aid. I don’t know if I’ll even get the scholarship now.” 

“What happened in that meeting?” Shiro asked and again Keith looked away. 

Keith leaned back on his locker, his body felt heavier than it ever had before. 

“I fucked up,” Keith said, his voice just above a whisper. “I lost my cool.” 

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro groaned, half sympathetic, half knowing. “I thought you were prepared for the interview. I should have been there to go over the material with you.” 

Shiro fell against the lockers beside Keith, disappointed in himself. He knew Keith’s tendency to reach for anger when he was at a loss for words. Interviews were never his strong suit. 

“I was prepared but he bombarded me,” Keith said. “I lost my footing in the debate. I didn’t know it was a debate. He made me feel wrong for asking for help. So, now he’s getting what the school wanted. I’m dropping out and they aren’t wasting any money on me.” 

“You’re not dropping out,” Shiro said. 

“Shiro, it’s nice of you to be optimistic, but I can’t get another job. I’m burnt out as it is.” 

“So, quit your job. My offer still stands,” Shiro said. 

Keith rolled his eyes. ‘Shiro’s offer’ was their first big fight, and it still hung in the air between them, at least it hung over Keith. ‘Shiro’s offer’ was a chunk of cash left to him by his dead parents and he wanted to fork it over for Keith’s education. 

“I’ll take a year off,” Keith shrugged. “Save up some money and come back if I can.”

“Let me help you,” Shiro demanded. 

“I don’t want that money,” Keith shot back. His voice was sharp enough to silence them both. After a few beats of silence, he huffed another heavy sigh. “I have to do this on my own. You know that,” he said much more softly. 

“It can be a loan. You can pay it all back,” Shiro offered. “I want to do this. I want to help you.” 

Keith turned to Shiro, pressing his chest against Shiro’s, only Shiro’s t-shirt separating them. He kissed him once, softly on the lips. 

“I know you want to help,” Keith said. “But we both know that I won’t be able to pay you back.” 

Keith leaned back in for another kiss, his eyes closing as he peppered Shiro’s jaw with open-mouthed kisses. 

“I don’t want you to give up,” Shiro said. His eyes had fluttered to a close and his hands were holding hard to Keith’s narrow hips. “Why do I feel like you’ve already given up?” 

“Just kiss me,” Keith said, his lips hovering above Shiro’s waiting for him to make the next move. Shiro moved in, pushing his lips hard against Keith’s. He moved his hands to Keith’s long, tangled hair, deepening the kiss even more. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance was in a daze. He could feel tiredness on his bones like honey. He had gotten all the way back to his dorm before realizing he’d left his phone on a bench in the locker room. He’d turned back and managed a half jog all the way back to the gym. 

There was something so startling about patting your pockets and realizing your phone is gone, that sense of unease was what had propelled Lance’s half jog. He’d slipped back into the gym quietly, not wanting to draw attention or converse with anyone until his phone was back safe in his pocket. 

The silence of the gym was welcoming and no voices were pulsing from inside the locker room, so he slid into the swinging door and-

And he froze. 

He stared, slack jawed, as he took in the scene before him. 

Lips sliding across lips, tongues touching, hands groping, chests touching. Shiro. Keith. Lips. Tongues. Hands. Chest. Shiro. Keith. 

Lance felt like he was short-circuiting. He could feel how hot his face had grown. He could feel the tightness in his pant. His hands, working against him, unfurled around his lanyard and his keys clattered loudly to the cracked tile floor. 

An obscene smack of lips echoed around the locker room as Keith and Shiro broke apart in shock. For a second, they all stared at each other in shock. Then, Lance was moving in spastic movements, pulling his gym bag in front of him, grabbing his keys from the floor, snatching his phone from the otherwise empty bench, and running out of the locker room. 

Lance’s mind was racing, churning. Keith and Shiro. Keith and Shiro?? How did that happen? When did that happen? How could there be such a hot couple? No. That wasn’t right. Keith was, Keith. And Shiro was hot and kind and sweet. Keith was, Keith. Hot and infuriating. He must have seemed so hot because he was attached to Shiro. It must have rubbed off on him while they were rubbing up against each other. When did that become a thing? 

He trudged on toward the dorm and ignored the weird looks he got from people who passed, their eyes judging the gym bag that hid his crotch.

 

/ / 

 

Hunk pulled gently at Lance’s arms, leaning back as Lance leaned forward, assisting him in a backstretch. Their feet were pressed lightly together where they were seated on the floor of their dorm room. He took a deep breath, then began to exhale as Lance slowly unfurled and began to return the slight pull on Hunk’s arms. Hunk dropped his head so he would feel the stretch farther down his spine. 

 

Lance had been nearly silent since Hunk had gotten back from class. He had been lying in bed, his hair wet from a shower, his eyes just barely drifting closed when Hunk had entered the room. 

“What’s on your mind?” Hunk asked, his head still lowered. He couldn’t help but worry about Lance, his oldest friend. He just wanted him to be happy. 

“On my mind?” Lance asked, his voice a little distant. “Oh, uh, nothing,” he continued, sounding much more present as Hunk lifted his head and began reciprocating the stretch for Lance one more time.

“Come on, out with it. You’ve been so quiet lately. And not just, I have nothing to say quiet, because you never have nothing to say, but quiet-quiet, like you have so much going on in that little head of yours that you don’t know what to say,” Hunk rambled. He got so caught up in his long-winded sentence that he barely caught the small smirk that Lance had on his face. 

“You know me too well, buddy, you know that?” Lance asked, cutting in before Hunk could continue. 

“It’s kind of scary, huh?” Hunk laughed. “But don’t change the subject, what’s up?” 

They both pulled back up into upright positions, Lance tucking his legs beneath him and Hunk pulling his in Indian-style. 

“So, well,” Lance chewed at his bottom lip, conflicted. “I have these friends,” he began, and Hunk immediately scrunched his eyebrows down suspiciously. He knew all of Lance’s friends. Lance not using their names worried him. “And today, I found out that they aren’t who I thought they were?” 

Lance paused and sighed heavily, noticing Hunk’s dismayed expression. 

“I just, had them in this box, and I thought they were like, completely different. But it turns out that they’re not, different. They’re like, on the same page. And it’s not bad, that they’re different, it’s good actually. At least, I think it is. I’m not really sure.” 

Hunk waited until he was sure that Lance was done talking. Then, he squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of the word-vomit that Lance had spewed between them. Unfortunately, he wasn’t pulling any of the pieces together. 

“Lance, buddy, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you elaborate on, well, anything?” Hunk asked gently. 

“Well, my friends sort of, made out with each other. And I didn’t know that these certain friends were particularly of the gay persuasion. So it was, shocking, if you catch my drift,” Lance said, more bluntly this time. 

This made Hunk sit up in shock. Maybe Lance was talking less about his ‘friends’ and more about himself and a friend. Hunk was practically waiting for Lance to tack, ‘I’m asking for a friend,’ to the end of his story. 

“You made out with someone?” Hunk asked, much more upfront than Lance. “Who did you make out with? Gay persuasion? So it must have been a guy. On the team? Or not?” Hunk began to ramble his questions out. He barely registered Lance trying to deny his suspicions. “And no offence, but it isn’t really shocking that you were ‘persuaded’ by the gay side, since, you know, you’ve been hitting on every human being you’ve met since the second grade. And you told me you were bi a week into high school.”

“HUNK,” Lance said, firmly shaking Hunk’s shoulders. Hunk stopped babbling and waited for Lance to speak again. “It wasn’t me. I literally walked in on them making out in the locker room. Not. Me,” Lance droned. 

“In the locker room? The cheer locker room?” Hunk asked. 

“Yeah, but, listen I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to out anyone. Like, that’s not cool. So don’t try to figure out who it is, please. And don’t say anything to anyone else. Got it?” Lance demanded. 

“Gay and on the cheer team?” Hunk asked. He looked confused. Then his eyes went wide, as if the thought had clicked. “You’re not talking about Keith and Shiro, are you?” He asked. 

“SHHHH!” Lance hushed, covering Hunk’s mouth with his hands and looking around as if someone were in the room with them. Hunk just looked on with a quirked eyebrow. “No one can know!” Lance hissed. 

“Lmphse,” Hunk said, his words muffled through Lance’s hands. “Eef am Meero’re ou. Ey’re oogether.” 

“What?” Lance asked, removing his hands from Hunk’s mouth.

“Keith and Shiro are out. They’re together. You didn’t know that?” Hunk clarified. 

“They. . . what?” Lance asked, his eyes wide in disbelief. 

“Yeah, they’ve been together for like, two years, dude. Where have you been?” 

“Huh,” Lance said, putting his hands on his knees and staring off into the middle distance, his jaw agape. 

He thought back to every interaction he’d seen between Keith and Shiro. Nothing had struck him as particularly romantic, but they did seem to gravitate around each other a lot. 

Then, in a cold sweat, he remembered the party. How had he been so clueless? How had he missed it? He’d slept in bed with them. ‘Idiot, idiot, idiot,’ Lance though. ‘You were probably so drunk that you invited yourself into their bed. Can you say awkward? Jesus Christ.’ 

He pushed the heel of his palms against his eyes, trying to fight back the embarrassment that was rising up in him. 

“I’m a fucking walnut,” Lance mumbled. 

“A walnut?” Hunk asked and Lance jerked his hands away from his face, remembering that Hunk was still there. “That’s. . . different.” 

Lance laughed, trying to hide the fact that he was drowning in embarrassment. 

“Yeah,” he said weakly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the Klance in this chapter so like, sue me. lol 
> 
> More coming soon! (Like hopefully next week soon!!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter with a kiss.

Lance’s phone vibrated on his bedside table, buzzing loudly against the wooden surface. A photo of his mom and dad showed up on his screen, alerting him that it was a call from his childhood home. It felt like a horror movie. ‘The call is coming from inside the house!’ His sudden anxiety rivaled that, at least. 

He chewed on his lip, hesitating to answer. He knew who was calling and why and he didn’t want to deal with it. Not right now with his mind racing the way it was. 

“Hello?” He said, finally answering the phone. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Lance’s dad said back. He sounded happy. It made Lance cringe with guilt for not wanting to answer his call. “You busy?” 

“Not too busy for you, Dad,” Lance said and even though he was on the phone, he still feigned a smile. 

“I got the game schedule for the season,” his dad said, the reason for his call. Lance felt his heart plummet into his stomach. He felt instantly queasy and dizzy. “You didn’t tell me the first game was so soon. Thursday, you must be getting excited.” 

Lance faked a chuckle to buy time. He needed to think fast. He needed to say something that wouldn’t disappoint his dad, he needed to say, ‘I’m still on the team and I’m pitching this Thursday,’ but he couldn’t lie to his dad either. 

“Yeah, I’m excited about Thursday,” Lance said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie. He was excited for the cheer competition. He’d been working hard to nail the routine that Allura had given them and he was doing really well too. But he wasn’t excited about the baseball game. It was a home game, which meant that his father was going to make the trip to VU to see the game like he always did. 

Lance’s choices were null, somehow find out how to rejoin the baseball team and struggle through bench time for the rest of his college career or tell his dad, before Thursday, that he had quit. 

“I’m excited to see you, mijo,” his father said. “I know it hasn’t been long since the school year started, but your mother and I really miss you.” 

This, too, was a blessing and a curse. He loved that even in his sea of siblings, his parents made time and missed him. But he knew he was letting them down. He was the first of his siblings to go to college, a sports man, but now, he just cheered. 

He thought of Allura, and how cheer was more than a sport to her, it was a life style, and he felt guilty. He didn't think cheer was any less a sport than baseball or football, or anything else, until he was talking to someone from beyond the cheer vantage point. His father would never understand the skill and athleticism that cheer took. Not many people did. 

“I miss you guys, too,” Lance said. “How is everyone?” He knew this topic would spur them away from sports as his dad gossiped to him about each of his siblings, but Lance had a hard time participating, his stomach still in knots. He smiled and laughed along, but he rarely had any input. 

When his dad and he hung up, he laid back down to sleep. 

 

/ / 

 

“Isn’t this cool?” Shay asked. 

She and Hunk had been wandering through rows of food trucks for almost the whole day. It was an event the school put on and it drew out students like crazy.  
Nearly every student had wandered through at least one row to pick up some good, cheap food. At this point in the semester, they were all tired of cafeteria food. Hunk figured an event like this raised moral on some level. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a huge spoonful of a masterfully crafted clam chowder. “Some of this stuff is amazing.” 

They stopped to get a bowl full of homemade nutella donut holes and Hunk popped one in his mouth. 

“What do you think?” Shay asked, nibbling on the edges of one of the sugary treats. 

Hunk mulled over the question, taking another of the bite-sized donuts and biting it in half. This time, he chewed slowly. 

“They’re really good,” Hunk said. “But the dough is missing something. And the nutella, they should really do something to it, add something so it’s not so generic, you know? Or maybe some cinnamon on the outside would be better. Mmmm,” he sighed. “A cinnamon nutella donut with a hot mocha, double shot, would be delicious. Or maybe a cherry blitz with a chai latte.” 

Hunk had been doing this all day, for each snack that they picked out, Hunk could think of little ways to improve them or pair them with something that another cart was offering to make them even better. 

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Shay said. 

“What stuff?” Hunk asked, taking another donut. 

“Culinary stuff,” Shay said. “I’m honestly surprised that you’re not majoring in the culinary track. You’d make a great chef.” 

“A chef?” Hunk asked, as if he’d never thought of it. He hadn’t really. He’d always excelled in his science courses. It came easy to him so he stayed on that track. It was just what he thought he was supposed to do. 

“Yeah, you’re an amazing cook,” Shay said, smiling up at him. 

“Thanks. I guess I just never thought of food as a job before,” Hunk said with a smile back at her. 

“Well, maybe you should. You’d be really good at it.” 

And Hunk couldn’t deny that he would be good at it. From helping his moms in the kitchen, to making meals for his moms on weeknights, and now making dorm food creations for him and Lance, he had been cooking all his life. He loved to do it, so why shouldn’t he make it a career? That was what people always wanted, wasn’t it? Plus, he was bored in his current major. He was sailing through it like a sunny day and just waiting until he needed to find a job, but what would happen then? Would he be bored and unchallenged in his job? Would he just be breezing by until retirement? 

Shay was holding his hand, looking around at other food carts and smiling, unknowing that she’d just given Hunk a mini quarter-life-crisis. But Hunk had a feeling he’d be thanking her for it at some point. He smiled back down at her and suggested they share a bowl of Tai noodles and chicken. 

 

/ / 

 

Hunk woke up before Lance did the next morning, which was surprising, because Lance had been sleeping when Hunk had gotten home at 10 the night before. But Hunk shrugged it off didn’t think much of it. Instead, he went through his morning routine as quietly as possible. 

As the time came closer to the start of morning cheer practice, and Lance was still asleep, Hunk sat on the edge of Lance’s bed. The movement jostled Lance a little, and he turned his head to see Hunk’s smiling face above him. Lance smiled back before rolling back over and closing his eyes. 

“Lance, buddy, cheer starts in 20. If you don’t get up now, you’re gonna be late,” Hunk said, trying to keep the worry from his voice. Lance could sleep, he was good at sleeping well past noon, but that was when he stayed up the night before, writing papers or pounding cheap beer and Rubinoff. He never slept late when he went to bed by 10 the previous night. Not since high school. 

“I uh, I think I’m gonna skip today,” Lance said, his eyes still closed, though they were scrunched now, his eyebrows turned down. “Catch up on some sleep, you know?” 

And there it was, Hunk’s reason to worry. That was what Lance always said before falling off the planet into nega-Lance world. It happened a lot in high school, before he’d found his place, before his baseball team had made him feel useful and popular and fun. Lance would mope around until he hit his wall and slid into nega-Lance world at 100 miles per hour. 

Nega-Lance world was not a place that anyone wanted to be. It was hours upon hours of sleep and weird eating patterns and a blank slate. It was Lance’s most visceral form of depression and Hunk knew there was no pulling him out of it. It was just something that they had to wait out. 

“Okay, buddy, but I can’t guarantee that Allura won’t come down here and pull your ass out of bed if you don’t show up.” 

“You better give her the key,” Lance muttered, good-natured, but Hunk knew it was all part of his act. He never wanted anyone to see when he was struggling, so he hid it with humor, flirting, and sleep. 

When Hunk got to practice, Shiro wasn’t the only one who asked where Lance was, but he was the most important. They were about to get into formation when he asked. 

“Oh he’s uh, sick, today,” Hunk answered. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “He’ll be here tomorrow.” This, probably was a lie. 

Hunk had no idea how long this stretch would last for Lance, and he very rarely crawled away fully healed after one day of sleep. It was doubtful that he would be at practice tomorrow and if he was, he would only be doing more damage than not. 

“Oh, well tell him to feel better,” Shiro said, genuine caring in his voice. “Dorm colds are the worst.” 

From the tone in his voice, Hunk wasn’t so sure that Shiro believed that Lance had a dorm cold, but Hunk wasn’t about to correct him. Instead, he played along until it was time to circle up for stretches. 

 

/ / 

 

Allura stormed into Coran’s office. His chair looked about to tip with surprise as his eyes snapped open and his soft snoring was promptly ended. His feet, which had been propped up on his desk, were now back on the floor much quicker than Coran knew they could move. He blinked his heavy eyes a few times before taking in who was standing in front of him and thrusting a paper into his face. 

Allura waved the paper until Coran took it. 

“Look at this!” She said as Coran snatched the paper away. 

“Ah, Allura, wasn’t expecting you!” He said, as good natured as ever. “Now, what’s this? I haven’t my glasses on me.”

He squinted at the paper and Allura let out a long sigh. 

“They want to pull our ability to fundraise on campus!” Allura said. 

“That’s ridiculous! On what grounds?” Coran asked. “Every sports team has the right to fundraise!” 

“On the grounds that they want to downgrade us to a club sport!” Allura said, even more outraged than before. 

“Then we won’t have any funding! And we won’t be able to compete!” Coran said in shock, although he knew Allura already knew both of those things. 

“I KNOW!” Allura said. 

“Well, now’s the time to get the students involved!” Coran said. “You said you would show them your fun side! So show it! Make them outraged that you may be moved to a club sport!” 

At this, Allura sighed again. She plopped her purse, an oversized white snakeskin bag, onto Coran’s desk and pulled out a hand full of poster supplies, fat permanent markers and glitter sticks overflowing through her fingers. 

“Unfortunately, I’m one step ahead of you.” 

 

/ / 

 

Lance had accidentally stumbled upon the party he was currently at. He’d spent all day in bed and woke up with the night. He’d tossed and turned but couldn’t find his way back to sleep, now wide-awake, and decided to go for a walk.

The party was on sorority row and around him danced way too many drunk girls with their boyfriends. It seemed like he was the only single person at the party. Not that that mattered. He was content to drink jungle juice in the corner of the room, watching as new couples churned in and out of the open doorway. Nobody knew him here and he didn’t have to smile and joke for anyone else’s sake.

It was sweaty and sticky, and at some point, Lance had unknowingly gotten drunk. He must have underestimated the potency of the big vat of juice because the room started to look wavy around him. 

He set down his cup just as a slew of boys from the baseball team entered the room, including their dipshit new pitcher. Lance stayed in his chair, not wanting to be seen by anyone at all, especially not those guys. A few girls trailed behind them, distracting them enough to pass through the room Lance was in without seeing him. 

This must have been a true coincidence, them showing up there. They looked like they were already drunk, it being 1am already, and none of them looked to be searching for anything except a cold beer. ‘They’re not following you,’ Lance thought to himself, ‘That head case Keith has got you paranoid.’ 

But still, he left as quickly and quietly as possible, stumbling back out onto Sorority row and heading for, well, he wasn’t sure yet. He didn’t want to go back to his dorm. That would surely set off Hunk’s alarm bells, and he was already on edge, asking Lance a hundred times if he was okay or if he needed anything. He meant well, but Lance had just wanted to be left alone. 

‘That’s why no one likes you, Lance,’ he thought. ‘You’re desperate for attention, then you push it away when you get what you want.’ 

He barely noticed the car that’d pulled up beside him, creeping to a crawl that matched his unsteady footsteps. He looked up lazily as the black car’s dark tinted windows rolled down. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Shiro inside. 

“Need a ride?” Shiro asked, a slight smile on his face. 

Lance nodded, suddenly feeling drunker than before. The thought of walking the mile plus to his dorm now seemed insurmountable. 

“Thanks,” he said, ducking into Shiro’s car. He did a double take when he saw two girls in the back. One was holding a plastic shopping bag, another had her face in it, crying and gagging. 

“Bags are by your feet if you need one,” Shiro said behind a laugh at Lance’s surprise. 

Lance shook his head at the offer. 

“No thanks,” he said, his words just slightly slurred. “You were at a party? With girls?” Lance asked in disbelief and again Shiro laughed. 

“Not exactly. Meg called me for a ride. I know her from a few of my classes,” Shiro said. He nodded to the backseat and Meg, the girl holding the bag, smiled. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said, although she hadn’t caught Lance’s name. 

“Likewise,” Lance mumbled. 

“They live about 15 minutes south, you want me to drop you off first?” Shiro asked. Lance looked behind him at the gagging girl. His dorm was north and even though it was just up the street, he shook his head. 

“Nah, I could go for a ride,” Lance said. It sounded more sexual than he’d meant it and his face went red, so he turned his head toward his window. Not before he caught Shiro’s smile though. 

“Thanks,” the girl said from the back. Lance had already forgotten her name.  
They rode in near silence, the only sound being dry heaves and the radio that Shiro barely gave any volume to. 

Lance closed his eyes and leaned his head back, but he still couldn’t sleep. 

‘Great,’ he thought. ‘My sleeping schedule is going to be all fucked up now.’ 

He opened his eyes again only when the girls slammed the car door shut as they left. 

“I thought you were sleeping,” Shiro said, as he pulled back onto the street. 

“Nah, not drunk enough for that,” Lance said with a fake smile. “So, are you really just out to be a DD? You seem pretty awake for a Wednesday morning.” 

Shiro tapped his steering wheel and the silence that drew between them made Lance think that he’d said something he shouldn’t have. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Shiro finally said, smiling over at Lance. 

“Oh. Me too.” 

“But, I picked you up at a party,” Shiro laughed. “Trying to get some shut-eye there?” 

This drew a real smile out of Lance. 

“No,” he laughed. “But I was before that.” 

“Ah, the late night party walk?” Shiro asked, as if it were a real thing. Maybe it was. 

“Yup,” Lance nodded. 

“You hungry?” Shiro asked.

“Starving,” Lance said, just noticing that his stomach was on empty. Maybe that was a better reason as to why he’d gotten so tipsy so fast, he hadn’t had a thing to eat since the day before. 

“We’ll get some fast food.” 

 

In the parking lot of Taco Bell, Lance stuffed his face with soft taco after soft taco, slurping down Baja Blast in between bites while Shiro destroyed two crunchwraps and a triple steak burrito. 

For a while after eating, they sat with their bellies over extended under the neon purple light of the taco bell sign. They both leaned their heads back and sighed contentedly. 

“Allura would kill us if she knew we were eating that shit in season,” Shiro said. Lance looked over at Shiro, who had his eyes closed and a smile on his face. Lance’s eyes followed the long scar that followed along Shiro’s face, cutting it near in half. He wanted to ask what it was from, but ended up doing something much worse. 

Shiro’s eyes shot open upon Lance’s soft touch, but Lance, still a little too drunk, didn’t pull away. Luckily, Shiro’s eyes softened as Lance’s fingers continued to trace the scar. 

“Sorry,” Lance said, his voice thick, when his fingers had spanned the whole thing. He cleared his throat and took a long sip of soda. 

“No, it’s okay,” Shiro said, already missing Lance’s cool fingertips on his skin. 

“Can I ask?” Lance asked and Shiro nodded. 

“What’s it from? Where’d you get your scars?” 

Shiro knew it was what Lance had wanted to ask, and he’d allowed it, yet he still felt the answers closed off in his throat. 

“Remember,” Shiro began, “How I said, the football team and I didn’t really click?” 

Lance nodded. Shiro turned in his seat so that he was facing Lance and Lance mirrored his position. It felt so revealing to tell Lance about his scars, so delicate, but something about Lance made Shiro want to tell him.

“Well, I got into a car accident, a kind of hazing thing, with four of the other guys. They accidentally drove us over an overhang in the woods. I was in the bed of the truck and got thrown out by the fall. That’s how I got these scars.” 

Lance didn’t know what to say. All he knew was he was pissed that Shiro had gotten hurt. That, and he and Shiro had leaned in so close to each other that Lance could feel Shiro’s breathe on his lips. 

Lance bolted forward, his lips meeting Shiro’s. He’d fully expected Shiro to pull away, to kick him out of the car, to laugh in his face, but he did none of those things. Instead he put his hand on the back of Lance’s neck, cradling his neck as he continued to kiss him. 

And before Lance could free-fall into happy oblivion, Shiro was pulling away. 

Lance tried to chase his lips with his own, but Shiro already had his hand on the key in the ignition. He turned it, and the sound of the car starting smoothly seemed to wake Lance from whatever dream he thought he was having. 

“Fuck,” Lance said under his breath, and although he was sure Shiro heard him, Shiro said nothing at all. He looked dazed as he drove the last few miles to Lance’s dorm room. 

Lance wasn’t the kind of person to take what wasn’t his. He’d grown up with a litter of siblings but, unfortunately, that had fostered him to be the kind of person who didn’t mind sharing. This was not a good time to be sharing and caring. Other people really didn’t like when you shared their significant others. And Lance didn’t like being the person to move in on people with significant others. It was just that something about Shiro had been so inviting and vulnerable. 

He felt like Shiro’s story and body language were saying ‘yes, kiss me,’ when really he was probably just telling the story because Lance asked. As simple as that.

Lance roughly pushed his hand through his messy hair and tried to pretend that he wasn’t turning into a desperate home-wrecker. He struggled to open the car door when they pulled up to his dorm. Shiro leaned across him and hit the unlock button and Lance blushed. The tension between them was so thick that Lance wasn’t sure if he’d been able to take a breath during the ride. He swung the door open and was about to step out when Shiro spoke.

“Lance,” Shiro said, grabbing Lance’s forearm. 

“Don’t worry,” Lance interrupted. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

A sad smile stretched over Shiro’s face, but he didn’t let go of Lance’s arm. 

“I appreciate that. But that’s not what I was going to say,” Shiro said, and Lance’s defenses melted a little more under Shiro’s sweet gaze. “I wanted to apologize. You’re drunk and I shouldn’t have kissed you back. That wasn’t right of me. I’m flattered, I am, but-”

“Yeah, I know. You’re taken,” Lance said, deflating. He stepped out of the car, running a hand through his hair again. He could still feel Shiro’s hand on the back of his neck, goose bumps rising on his skin. “I’m sorry too. For, you know,” Lance trailed off and Shiro nodded. Lance closed the car door and waved. Shiro sped off, and Lance finally finished his sentence. 

“being me.” 

 

/ / 

 

Shiro parked outside of Keith’s apartment. His eyes were wide and his lips were buzzing. He wanted to tell Keith what happened, he wanted to explain that Lance’s lips had been chapped, and spicy with hot sauce, and so sweetly innocent. But, that’s not what you were supposed to say to your boyfriend after you kissed someone else. 

Telling your boyfriend how great of a kisser someone else is was never, and would never be, a good thing. It meant your relationship was over. Didn’t it? 

Shiro lifted his fingers to his lips, still feeling Lance’s over his. He wanted to share that feeling with Keith, but he didn’t know how that could ever work. It wasn’t a reality that he was allowed. People didn’t do that. 

He wiped his mouth roughly on his sleeve, trying to take away the tingles, but they remained. He should tell Keith that it happened at least. Keith would forgive him as long as Shiro was truthful. But Shiro wasn’t so sure what the truth was anymore. He didn’t know what questions Keith would ask or what he would say to those questions. So, instead of going inside, he started his car again and headed for his own apartment. 

 

/ / 

 

Everyone looked so much more in sync when they were in uniform. It was something Pidge had always felt. Everyone’s starchy, thick uniforms sat perfectly on their bodies and made them look like a real team, even if the uniforms were a mishmash of color schemes. 

VU must have, at some point, had a more dignified color code. But over the years the boys’ prep school (blue and gold) and then the boys’ college (green and red), and the co-ed college (blue, red, and black) had become a compilation of color schemes for VU. 

Their cheer uniforms now had a spot for each color. Their base was black, but each sleeve was paneled with either red or green. Then, the pleated skirts had double stripes down each side, one side yellow, and the other side blue. The same double stripes were found on the boys’ shorts. It was a wonder they didn’t look like rodeo clowns in them, but somehow, it all came together well. Pidge attributed that also to the big word emblazoned across each cheerleader’s chest. Lions. 

It had been a long time since Pidge had been in a cheer uniform, a long time since she had given up on sports teams, but she felt like she was among family here. She’d especially appreciated that the team had shown the decency to switch out her uniform’s skirt for a pair of boys’ shorts. They hit just above her knees and gave her a sense of security that cheer skirts and spankies never could. 

Even Lance and Hunk looked cooler in their uniforms, Pidge thought as she scanned the room. Hunk was talking to Shay, leaning in close to her as she smiled up at him. They’d passed the point in their relationship where they tried to hide their flirting from the team. Now, they openly flirted and talked and, Pidge was pretty sure, they were calling each other ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend,’ respectively. 

Lance, on the other hand, wasn’t talking to anyone. He was leaned up against the gym wall, eyes closed. Hung-over, if Pidge had to guess. But still, he looked sharp in his uniform, even for a big dweeb, probably because he wasn’t moving around as much as he usually did. 

Allura entered the room, looking radiant in her uniform. Allura made the uniform look like it was custom made for her. It wasn’t that the uniform fit better than anyone else’s but her confidence and surety in her place as captain made it look like she had invented cheer and everything that came along with it. 

The team gathered in formation, already warmed up, and they began their routine’s run-through. Everything was going great, until it wasn’t. Pidge was halfway through the routine, Shiro holding her foot and suspending her higher than anyone else. She put her hands out, reaching for the other two flyers who were supposed to aid her flip, give her more air, propel her up, and guide her back into Shiro’s arms. But only her left hand hit another palm. She glanced down to her left and with the muttered swearing, Shiro and the other flyer looked too. 

Lance’s arms were shaking under Nyma’s weight. He couldn’t will his elbows to lock. He’d felt weak all day. Nyma’s arms wind-milled as Rolo, her first base, tried to hoist her up higher and Lance, her second Base, wavered below her. 

“Come on, Lance!” Allura said, upbeat but with an underlying agitation. “This is our last practice before competition. Nail the move or keep going! Set up again!” 

“Fuck,” Lance hissed beneath his breath, as Nyma kicked off his hand and aimed her fall toward Rolo. She popped out of his arms, smiling at Lance. 

“It’s okay, you can do it,” she said. Even in the light of Nyma’s sweet encouragement, Lance could barely manage a wilting smile. He’d nailed that move a hundred times before. It was just a simple lift. So why was he messing it up now?

He missed it on their second run through too. And on their third, Allura pulled Keith from his tumbling position to help Lance. Keith hadn’t so much as rolled his eyes but there was something so angry about his stance as he made his way to Lance. At least, that’s how Lance saw it. 

The hair stood up on the back of Lance’s neck and when they reached the lift for the fourth time, Keith was behind him, reinforcing his wrists, pushing Nyma into the air and aiding his shaking arms. Support. 

“I don’t need your help,” Lance said, his stomach plummeting at the idea of Keith one-upping him again, even worse, replacing him. It was obvious he was better than Lance, so why was Lance even trying, especially if he was messing up so much the day before a competition?

“Seems like you do,” Keith said, just as aggressively as Lance had. 

“I don’t,” Lance said, sharper this time. Cold. 

“Fine,” Keith said, letting go of Lance’s wrists as Pidge landed safely in Shiro’s arms. 

The problem was that Lance really had needed Keith’s help. As soon as Keith let go, Lance’s arms set to shaking again and his elbows buckled. Nyma came crashing down. Rolo reached for her, but it was too late. She’d already crashed down into Lance’s arms knocking them both to the floor. 

Lance helped Nyma up, trying to ignore the fact that he was at Shiro’s feet and the rest of the formation had turned to look at them. Once Nyma was up, it was Shiro and Pidge who tugged at Lance’s arms, getting him to his feet. 

“Thanks, you guys,” Lance said with a smile, trying his hardest to cover up his sour mood. “Didn’t think I’d swoon at the sight of those gold spankies,” he joked, nudging Pidge’s arm. She rolled her eyes and shoved him back, but Shiro watched him, noticing something was off. 

“I uh, think I need some water. Can we take five?” Lance said, looking to Shiro. 

“Sure, I’ll call it. Go ahead,” Shiro said before Lance ran off. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance bit back a sob. He felt the heavy lump in his throat that always made gasping sounds when he tried to suck in deep breaths. The cool, fresh air felt great on his overheated skin, but besides that, everything felt awful. 

“Hey, calm down,” Shiro said, putting a heavy hand on Lance’s shoulder.  
Lance bowed his head in embarrassment. He hadn’t heard anyone leave the gym, let alone approach him. He didn’t want Shiro, his hero, one of his crushes, to see him cry. He tried hard to stop crying, holding his breath hard in hopes that the sobs would stop. But it just made them louder when he had to catch his breath. 

“Hey, shh,” Shiro cooed. His large arms wrapped around Lance’s frame, nearly shocking Lance’s tears to a stop. “It’s okay,” Shiro whispered into Lance’s hair, and Lance found his arms curling tightly around Shiro’s waist, his hands gathering up in his cheer jacket. “What’s the matter?” Shiro asked. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Lance said, his voice all broken up under the power of his emotions. 

“Lance, don’t worry about it. It’s probably just nerves. Calm down, the routine will come to you,” Shiro offered, but it wasn’t what Lance meant. He shook his head against Shiro’s chest. 

Shiro waited for Lance to elaborate, now unsure what he meant but not wanting to push. 

“My dad is coming in tomorrow to watch me pitch my first game. And I’m not even on the baseball team anymore. I have no idea what I’m going to tell him,” Lance explained. His words dripped with guilt. 

“Just tell him the truth,” Shiro said. He’d begun petting Lance’s hair, trying to calm him. If it hadn’t been for the tragedy that Lance currently had on his plate, his stomach would be doing backflips. 

“It’s not that easy,” Lance said with his face pressed up hard against Shiro’s wide chest. “My dad’s a baseball fanatic. He went to every game last year. I was a benchwarmer but he was so excited to have a reason to go to those games. And he NEVER missed any of my high school games. He was SO excited when I joined the team. He’s going to be so disappointed in me.” 

Shiro tipped Lance’s face up so that he could look him in the eye. Lance’s face was wet and red but he’d stopped crying. Shiro left his finger under Lance’s chin as he spoke, making sure that Lance didn’t look away. 

“You can’t live your life for someone else. You’re following your happiness, and if you tell your father that, then he’ll understand. And if he still wants to go to the games, what’s the worst thing that could happen? You two go to the games together?”

“That’s. . . a good point,” Lance said. He was staring Shiro right in the eyes and the only thing he could hear was the comforting tone of Shiro’s voice. He felt like the whole world had stopped around them. His problem had dissipated, and in its place stood a beautiful man who was staring right back at him. And that was a problem of it’s own. 

He took a deep breath and decided once and for all, he was done thinking about Shiro. Yes, he was insanely handsome, and kind, and so so so hot, but he was taken, and Lance wasn’t that guy. Plus, Lance had a date with Nyma that very night, sweet, encouraging, Nyma, who he should apologize to for dropping her. So he had no room for feelings for anyone else.

Lance stepped away, wiping his eyes crudely with his bare arms. 

“See, it’s not so bad,” Shiro said with a smile. “It usually isn’t.”

Lance nodded. 

“Yeah, sorry. You’re right.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Shiro said. He used his scarred wrist to wipe a wet patch off of Lance’s face. “There, good as new. Let’s go nail this routine.” 

“Yeah,” lance nodded, forcing away the butterflies in his stomach. 

 

/ / 

 

“You threw your weight toward him,” Rolo accused. 

From where Hunk stood, eavesdropping by the water fountain, Rolo and Nyma sounded like they were in the midst of a lovers-spat. 

“I did not! He lost his grip on my foot. Of course I fell his way,” Nyma answered. 

“He couldn’t even catch you. Is he weak, or did you just gain weight?” 

Shay and Hunk shared an ‘oh shit’ look, eyes wide and mouths making little o’s, before continuing to listen in. 

“You’re a dick. I’m glad that I’m going out tonight. I SO need a break from you,” Nyma shot back. 

“Going out?” Rolo asked. “Out with who?” 

“Does it matter? Apparently we’re not going out anymore. Remember?” 

“We’re not. Doesn’t mean you should be throwing your panties at every guy who asks you out.” 

“Oh my God, your jealousy is extremely transparent.”

“Do you even know what transparent means?” 

“Hardy Har, you’re hilarious, Rolo. Don’t forget you failed your freshman intro class,” Nyma taunted. 

“Oh shut up,” Rolo scoffed before walking off. 

Shay shared another look with Hunk. He had an eyebrow quirked, a question that Shay obviously understood. 

“I thought the Nyma-Rolo drama was over,” Shay sighed. “They went out last year and had this super dramatic on-again off-again thing. They were always fighting though, so you could never tell if they were together or not. Who knows what they’re up to now,” Shay explained. 

“But they’re not getting back together, right?” Hunk asked. “Nyma and Lance are going on a date tonight.” 

“Lance and Nyma?” Shay asked in disbelief. 

“What? You don’t think Lance is good enough for Nyma?” Hunk asked, offended. 

“No! No that’s not what I’m saying!” Shay said, then laughed. “Stand down, Hunk.” 

Hunk smiled, embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Sorry,” he said shyly. 

“All I meant was, Nyma doesn’t ever date anyone beside Rolo. She likes to make him jealous, but I’m not sure if she would actually go out with anyone else. Maybe she really is over him.” 

Shay shrugged it off, but her nonchalant attitude didn’t make Hunk feel any better about it. 

He wanted to warn Lance but by the time practice ended, Lance was already late for his first class. And for the two-hour block of the day that they usually reserved for lunch, Lance was typing up a paper he’d forgotten about. And by the time Hunk had gotten out of his second block of classes, Lance had already left for town with Nyma. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance hastily reached in his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled bills, some change clanged to the floor. He blushed but Nyma just laughed. sweet as could be. She was so cute, smiling at him and batting her long eyelashes his way. They’d just left the movie theatre. The movie was a bust. Lance hadn’t even thought of putting his arm around her until the movie’s credits started rolling. He blamed it on Shiro and Keith and made the executive decision to elongate the date with some food. They’d made a stop at the frozen yogurt place on the way back to campus and it was proving a better date spot than the movies. 

Nyma’s frozen yogurt was topped with strawberries and pink candies. His was covered in mini snickers and hot fudge. He was a little embarrassed by his lack of ‘presentation,’ but she didn’t seem to notice. They sat on tall stools in the windowsill, looking at the tourists that passed by. 

Lance felt his stomach twist up every time she laughed at his jokes, and she laughed at all of his jokes, which was rare. Even Hunk didn’t laugh at all of his jokes. For the first time ever, he felt like somebody really liked him. 

Nyma scraped the bottom of her yogurt dish, picking up her last strawberry and placing it delicately on her tongue. Fuck it, Lance thought, and he leaned in for a kiss. 

Nyma leaned away immediately, her nose wrinkling up in distaste. 

“Ew,” she muttered and Lance felt that world of ‘maybe someone actually likes me’ disappear under his feet. 

Lance sat up straight, leaving her realm of personal space. He wanted to say something to clear the tension, make a joke or play it cool but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His face was red from embarrassment. He didn’t dare look behind them at the patrons and employees of the yogurt place, knowing that they must all be laughing at his failed attempt at a kiss. 

“I don’t owe you anything just because you bought me yogurt,” Nyma said loudly, embarrassing him further. 

“I didn’t think you did!” Lance said immediately. 

“You’re just like every other guy,” Nyma said, flicking her long ponytail behind her. 

“I am not!” Lance said. 

“Yes you are,” Nyma said. She stood up, leaving her bowl at the table. Lance grabbed it under his and threw it out as they passed a trashcan. “I bet you thought we were going to go back to your scuzzy dorm and have sex after this, didn’t you?” 

Lance’s face lit up red, again, as he made eye contact with a mother and her children as they passed by. 

“That’s not what I thought!” Lance said, lowering his voice so that maybe Nyma would get the hint that the conversation they were having wasn’t for a public place. “I just thought we were having a good time! I just wanted to kiss you!” Lance tried to explain. 

“I’m sure your intentions were so pure,” Nyma said, pulling her phone back out of her bag and sending another text. She’d been texting a lot that night but Lance hadn’t thought anything of it. Now, it bothered him. She’d made a scene and now she was ignoring him to text someone else. The least she could do was hear him out. 

“I don’t get it, I thought we were having a good time. I thought this was a date. What went wrong?” Lance asked, deciding to screw his dignity in place for answers.

“A date?” Nyma asked. “We don’t even know each other. This was just a team-bonding thing. You know, a base and a flyer growing trust so that maybe you won’t drop me anymore? Plus, I don’t date bi guys.” 

“What?” Lance said, hurt from her dropping comment, but also thrown of guard by her blatant homophobia. 

“I don’t date cheaters,” she said, as if the two things were interchangeable. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow,” she said, turning her back to him and putting her phone up to her ear. 

“How are you going to get home?” Lance asked, annoyed by her dismissal. 

She pointed to the phone up to her ear, another ‘duh’ expression on her face. 

“I’m calling a cab,” she said with bored annoyance. 

“Fine!” Lance said, shoving his hands in his pockets. It was a forty-minute walk back to campus but he wasn’t going to give Nyma the satisfaction of him waiting for a cab beside her or asking to split one. He instead turned and started the walk home. As he walked away, he caught Nyma’s conversation. 

“Rolo, can you come pick me up?” 

‘Of course’, Lance thought, his posture slipping into a depressed slump. ‘She was texting Rolo.’ 

 

/ / 

 

Hunk was at the library. It wasn’t his ideal Wednesday evening but he had a report due in two weeks that he really wanted to get a jump on. As much as he wanted to get his paper started though, he left his phone on, just in case Lance called. He was worried about the whole ‘date with Nyma’ thing. He chewed on the cap of his pen as his eyes drifted between his phone and his textbooks. 

“Hunk!” Allura’s cheerful voice called, a little too loudly, through the library. 

Hunk looked up to see her smiling face coming toward him. She had an art portfolio hanging off her shoulder, which Hunk found odd until he saw Keith trailing grumpily behind her. She waved at him and he waved back. He also sent a quick wave Keith’s way. Keith just nodded in response. 

When they got to Hunk’s table, Allura laid out the portfolio and started grabbing things out of it. 

“Not that,” Keith said, shoving a box of black chalk, or at least that’s what it looked like to Hunk, back into the portfolio. 

“How are you?” Allura asked, turning her attention to Hunk as Keith began digging through the bag for what looked like poster supplies. 

“I’m good. What are you guys doing?” Hunk answered. 

“I’m going home,” Keith said. He swung his portfolio back over his shoulder. All of the craft supplies that had been in it were now littered on the library table in a dismayed rainbow of colors. Keith turned without waiting for Hunk or Allura to acknowledge his goodbye. 

“What’s up with him?” Hunk asked and Allura laughed. 

“I recruited him to help me carry poster supplies,” Allura said. “I stopped him from getting his afternoon nap.” 

“Huh, Lance is the same way,” Hunk joked. “What’re the posters for?” 

At this, Allura’s face tinted with a bit of red. 

“We’re going to start doing a few fundraisers. So I thought I’d make some posters for them,” she answered shyly. 

“Fundraisers, huh?” Hunk said, nodding and turning back to his textbook. He highlighted a passage and then continued to talk. “That sounds fun. Anything good planned.” 

“A carwash?” Allura said, and even though Hunk could hear the question on her voice, he didn’t comment on it.

“Like a bikini carwash?” Hunk asked. “That’s fun.”

“You mean, it’s not embarrassing?” She asked. 

“What? You haven’t done one before?” Hunk asked, looking up from his textbook. “Oh man, you’re in for a good time. Our high school cheerleaders used to try to have them all the time. It always got busted but they usually managed a dance number before that. And they played fun music and they always had a really good turnout. They did an 80’s themed one our senior year. That was great. They all did thriller. Did you know there’s more than just claw movements in the thriller dance?” Hunk asked, swinging his arms lazily in the thriller motion. 

“Hunk.” Allura said, abruptly cutting Hunk off. “I did know that. Thank you.” 

“Do you need help with the posters?” Hunk asked, grinning her way. 

“I’d love that, thank you.” 

 

Hunk was putting the last glitter letter on his fifth poster when he checked his phone for the umpteenth time. Allura had noticed. She smiled slyly. 

“Waiting for a call from Shay?” She asked. 

“Not exactly,” Hunk said and Allura raised a shocked eyebrow. 

“Oh, I just assumed, since you’re checking your phone. Are you late for something? I don’t mean to keep you,” she offered but Hunk shook his head good-naturedly. 

“I’m waiting to see if Lance is going to call. He’s on a date with Nyma right now and-” 

“Oh no,” Allura interrupted and Hunk looked to her in surprise. 

“Oh no?” He asked. 

“I told her to stop doing this,” Allura sighed and at Hunk’s confused look, she elaborated. “Nyma is obsessed with Rolo. She frames casual outings as dates so that Rolo gets jealous. Then, Rolo comes running to her rescue when she calls him. It’s practically her calling card. Sorry, Hunk.” 

Allura’s analysis had been harsh, but she looked at Hunk with an apologetic smile and he gave her a half smile back. 

“That’s kind of what I figured,” Hunk nodded. “I just wish I had given Lance the heads up.”

 

/ / 

 

Lance could feel the hair stand up on his arms. There was a section of town that students had to walk through to get back to school that was less than safe and he was currently wading through it. It was all broken streetlights and barred windows. He kept his head down, not looking at any of the rare faces that passed. He was out of place in this part of town, his shiny blue Nikes felt like a beacon and he didn’t dare take out his new iPhone to check the time or text Hunk. 

The sound of animals sifting through overflowing trashcans made his heart race and above him a streetlight flickered to complete darkness. He passed another boarded up window and his imagination began getting the best of him. 

Under every graffitied bus stop there was a homeless man waiting to eat him. In every trashcan, a rabies-infested cat was waiting to scratch him. In every window a man with a gun was playing target practice. Even in the cold night air, Lance had begun to sweat and his calm walking pace had sped up to a nervous speed walk. 

“Hey little boy!” A voice shouted out at Lance. It was obvious that whoever was shouting was distorting his voice, making it deeper and adding more texture, but Lance didn’t pick up on it. He was too busy screaming in the face of who had jumped out from a stray alley to shout at him. 

The person stood in front of him, hands extended high above his head like a monster, a red hoodie pulled over his head, dark strands of hair peaking out, a mischievous smile on his face. 

Slowly, Lance’s yell of terror faded out as he realized who was standing in front of him. His look of horror fell into an irritated frown. 

“Scared you,” Keith said, a goofy grin on his face. 

“Keith?” Lance asked, pulling Keith’s hood down so he could see his face better. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me, Jesse. Where’s Heisenburg?” 

“What are you doing here?” Keith asked, rolling his eyes and smile fading to an annoyed scowl. 

“What were you doing here? Does Allura know that you do meth in your spare time? Why were you hiding out in an alley?” 

“I was taking out the trash,” Keith said and a shiver ran through Lance’s spine. 

“Taking out the trash?” Lance asked, his voice lowered. He peered down the dark alley that Keith had popped out of. “Like, I killed a guy, taking out the trash?” Lance asked and Keith shoved him. 

“No, what the fuck? Just, taking out the trash taking out the trash. As in my garbage can was full,” Keith said. 

“Why are you taking your garbage out here?” Lance asked, judgment of the scuzzy street clear in his voice. 

“I live here,” Keith answered coldly. 

“Oh,” Lance said. 

“Come on,” Keith said, cocking his head back down the alley. “I’ll give you a ride back to campus.” 

“Let me get this straight, you pop out of an alley saying ‘hey, little boy’ and now you want me to follow you into a small, dark place?” Lance asked although he began following Keith, without hesitation, back into the alleyway. 

Keith didn’t answer. Instead, he navigated through the garbage bags that laid strewn in the alley. The smell of stale trash didn’t seem to deter him as he stomped through. Lance on the other hand seemed to hit every stray bottle or can that was laying in the alley, making so much noise that Keith stopped midway to give him a withering glare. 

“I didn’t know you had a car,” Lance said as the alley opened up into a back lot filled with junk cars. Lance had his eye on a Mustang himself, but a junk car was better than no car. 

“I don’t,” Keith said as they rounded a boxy old machine that Lance wasn’t sure could even run. Behind it though, was a little red motorcycle. Keith slung a leg over it and slid his helmet over his head, buckling the straps beneath his chin. 

“Oh no,” Lance said, waving his hands in refusal. “I am NOT riding on that death trap. Not with you at the wheel.” Lance said. 

Keith reached for the spare helmet on the back of his bike, shoving it into Lance’s stomach. 

“Just get on. You still have a twenty minute walk to campus and you don’t want anyone stealing those ‘swaggy’ shoes of yours,” Keith said sarcastically.

“So people do steal shoes around here,” Lance asked, feeling validated over his previous fears. 

“If you look like chicken shit they will,” Keith laughed. 

“I did not look scared!” Lance argued, swinging a leg over the bike and putting on his own helmet. It was small and white and looked ridiculous. “Why do I have the ugly helmet?” 

Keith revved the engine and Lance grabbed the back of the bike. 

“You might want to hold on to me,” Keith said, eyeing Lance’s tight grip on the back of the bike. “Not much grip back there, plus she kicks a bit.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Lance said, his cheeks getting hot at the idea of wrapping his arms around Keith’s lithe frame. 

“Suit yourself,” Keith shrugged and revved the engine. 

When the bike shot into motion, Lance nearly fell off. The momentum of its start nearly threw him directly off the back of the bike and onto the pavement. Lance’s arms seemed to move on their own as they scattered to wrap around Keith’s middle. Even through their helmets and over the purring and sputtering of the bike, Lance could hear Keith laughing. 

“Shut up,” Lance murmured, his cheeks hot against Keith’s shoulders. 

 

/ / 

 

College was a confusing place. People had told Lance that, his favorite high school teacher, his older brother, a random patron at his dad’s shop. But he didn’t believe it until now. Sure, college was full of learning and new experiences, but Lance thought he had a handle on that. Switching sports hadn’t even been that confusing. It was a little gut wrenching, but not confusing. But now, clinging to the back of Keith, the warmth of his back radiating onto his own skin through their clothes and his heart beating a million miles a minute, Lance realized that yes, college was a confusing place. 

Keith had Shiro. Lance knew that. But Lance had kissed Shiro. If Keith ever found out about that, Lance shuddered at the thought.

“You cold?” Keith asked, calling through the loud wind and the engine sounds. 

Lance shook his head, nuzzling closer to Keith’s warm body. He didn’t bother speaking. He breathed in the spicy scent of Keith, spiced tea and old spice deodorant. He pressed his fingers down harder against Keith’s stomach. He was softer than Shiro, his body smaller and more relaxed. 

Lance was supposed to be wishing this were Shiro taking him on a ride through the night on his motorcycle. That’s how crushes worked right? But he was content with it being Keith. In fact, he kind of liked that it was Keith in front of him. 

Keith pulled up to Lance’s dorm, putting his foot down to steady the bike’s stop. He flipped the visor of his helmet up and turned back to Lance with a hand on his thigh. 

Keith was going to say something, and Lance wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t want to hear it. As quickly as possible, Lance got off the bike, tearing his helmet off and shoving it into Keith’s hands. He turned away, pushing his hands into his pockets and keeping his head down as he walked quickly to his dorm’s entrance. 

“What? No thank you?” Keith called after him, but Lance didn’t turn to answer. 

 

/ / 

 

“Are you okay? You look. . . flustered,” Hunk said when Lance came back.

Lance had come into the room in a huff and pressed his back against the door after closing it. His head fell back with a loud thud against the door. He sighed heavily when Hunk spoke. 

“So your date with Nyma was a bust?” Hunk asked and Lance’s head snapped up. 

“Nyma?” He asked. He’d completely forgotten about Nyma over the course of his ride to campus with Keith. The only one swimming in his head was Keith and, every now and again, Shiro would make a guest appearance. 

He looked at Hunk in confusion, and Hunk stared back with a matching expression. 

“OH,” Lance said, his eyes going wide and remembering the disaster date that had been him and Nyma. “Right, Nyma. No, that’s not going to work out,” Lance answered, still distracted. 

“What happened?” Hunk asked. “Allura told me that all Nyma is dating Rolo. Did you know that?” 

Lance’s stomach sunk. Sure, the moment that Lance saddled up onto Keith’s bike, he’d forgotten all about the bouncy blonde, but that didn’t make him feel any better when he learned that his assumptions about Nyma and Rolo were right. His stomach also felt a little sick at the idea that he’d butt into another relationship. First Keith and Shiro, now Nyma and Rolo. 

“I know that now. Nothing happened. Nyma told me it wasn’t a date and we both went our separate ways,” Lance answered succinctly. He collapsed on his bed. With a sigh he turned his head to Hunk. “I’m not having a good week.” 

Hunk smiled sympathetically. 

“I know,” Hunk answered. “Did something happen? This week, I mean.”

“Not really,” Lance said. There was a long pause. He wasn’t sure why he was keeping things from Hunk. Hunk cared and was offering to listen. “I’ve just been putting things off and piling up all these things that I don’t know how to deal with.” 

“Like what?” Hunk asked, spurring him on. 

“Like,” Lance paused. He was going to tell Hunk about Keith, and the butterflies he felt over that stupid idiot. But he couldn’t. Because Hunk would surely bring up Shiro. And if he brought up Shiro, then Lance would have to tell him about the kiss. And Hunk would think less of him, or judge him, or scold him. 

He shifted brainwaves, throwing himself into another corner, one that he felt he could talk about. 

“The cheer competition is tomorrow and I haven’t told my dad yet that I’ve gone to the dark side. Or I guess, the bright side? Whatever. He still thinks I’m pitching tomorrow.” 

“Lance, you’ve gotta tell him!” Hunk said immediately. “Call him. Like, right now!” 

Lance bit his lip and groaned. He covered his eyes and rubbed at them. 

“I don’t want to,” Lance whined. “He’s going to be mad.”

“You’re dad’s not going to be mad at you. He loves you. He will be mad though, if he goes to the baseball game and you’re just, not there. Like, he’ll be sitting there in the stands, waiting for his son to step out of the dugout and you just never will. And him and your mom will be waiting and waiting. And they’ll think something happened to you. They might even start posting missing child ads out for you and then everyone in the cafeteria will be drinking their chocolate milk out of cartons that have your face on them.” 

“Hunk,” Lance groaned. But he knew Hunk was right, overdramatic, sure, but still right. 

“Just call him,” Hunk demanded. “If you don’t, I will.” 

Lance sat up lazily, reaching into his pocket for his phone. 

“Fine,” he huffed. 

He bit his lip as he dialed his father’s number. 

“You can do it!” Hunk said in a stage whisper as Lance stood to pace back and forth. He stood still as the phone began to ring. He began gnawing on his fingernails nervously. 

“Hello?” Lance’s father answered. 

“Dad, it’s Lance,” Lance said, and he could hear how grave his own voice sounded. 

“Lance? Is everything okay?” His dad asked. He sounded worried and it made Lance’s stomach tighten up. 

“Everything’s fine. I just called to tell you,” Lance said, willing himself to sound more cheerful. He looked up at Hunk who gave him an encouraging double-thumbs-up. But he couldn’t do it. Not over the phone. “I called to tell you that the game was moved.” 

Hunk’s mouth fell open in disbelief as Lance described directions to the school that was hosting the cheer competition. 

“Yeah, just, follow the cheerleaders,” Lance said when his father had finished copying down the address. 

When he hung up, Hunk’s mouth was still open. He blinked and chopped his mouth closed when Lance put his phone on the nightstand. 

“I can’t believe you did that!” Hunk said. “You think he won’t know the difference between cheerleading and baseball?” 

“I couldn’t tell him over the phone,” Lance said. “I need to see his face when I tell him.” 

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are any typos!  
> Also, if I left any notes in the text let me know because I feel like I did but I can't find any lol
> 
>  
> 
> As always you can find more about this fic on my tumblr, courtneylej.tumblr.com (i.e. updates and fanart)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheer competition time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait between chapters!  
> I'm going to be posting shorter chapters so that I can update more often for you guys! I'll try to update every other week from here on out!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

Half of the team was waiting outside of the gym for their rides. Their hands were in the pockets of their cheer jackets. Their eyes were still crusty with sleep. Shiro waited on the sidewalk, a smile on his face, trying to keep morale up even though the sun had just barely risen. 

The competition wouldn’t start for hours, but they had practice time scheduled early, then there was hair, makeup, and wardrobe that had to be attended to before their performance. 

The first to pull up to the curb was Keith. His bike sputtered loudly. 

“Keith?” Shiro asked, stepping up to Keith as he flipped open the visor on his helmet. “I thought you were meeting us there?” 

“I thought you might need a ride,” Keith answered, too much emphasis on the back half his comment. He gave Shiro a sly smirk. Neither Keith nor Shiro noticed Lance blushing in the background, ducking his face into the collar of his jacket. 

“Enough with the flirting,” Pidge groaned. She looked the most tired out of all of them, with heavy eyes and a troth of coffee between her palms. “You know Allura’s seating chart has Shiro in my dad’s car.” 

Keith glared at her but said nothing. 

“Sad, but true,” Shiro joked. “Stick around though? Just in case?” 

As Keith nodded, Coran and Allura pulled up to the curb in separate cars. Coran’s old station wagon looked like an absolute antique. Lance and Hunk shared a look, knowing it was their destiny to pack into it with all of the cheer bags and supplies. Allura’s car was better, new and shiny, but tiny. Lance and Hunk shared another look, knowing neither of them would fit, so swapping places with someone was a moot point. 

As the gaggle of cheerleaders loaded into both cars, a mini-van pulled up behind Allura. Shiro waved, a big smile on his face. 

“Oh look, Matt came with them,” Shiro said, nudging Keith’s arm. 

Keith had no time to respond before Shiro was on his way to say hello to the family. But Shiro wasn’t the only one to notice the extra passenger in the Holts’ car. Allura’s brain began to whirl, recalculating her seating chart to accommodate the extra person. Her eyes fell on Keith, who had gone to picking at his nails. 

“Lance!” Allura called, waving at Lance just before he was about to take his spot in the passenger seat of Coran’s junk-mobile. “Lance, hold on! Change of plans.” 

Lance stared on in horror as Allura’s long fingers stretched out to point to Keith and his sputtering bike. He groaned and tossed his head to the side in defeat. He ignored the fact that his stomach started doing flips at the thought of pressing up against Keith again. 

“But Allluuuraaa,” Lance whined, already on his way over to Keith’s bike. 

“Thank you, Lance,” Allura said, ignoring Lance’s tone. 

“Back on the death trap,” Lance mumbled as he swung a leg over the bike and accepted the ugly helmet that Keith offered. 

“Don’t be rude. She treated you nice last night,” Keith answered sarcastically. 

Lance knew there was nothing he could say that could annoy Keith when Lance had to wrap his arms around him. Keith had the leg up in this situation, so Lance didn’t respond. 

 

/ / 

 

“So, is your boyfriend here?” Matt asked as Shiro popped into the seat beside him. Shiro laughed, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s the first thing you say to me? Where’s my boyfriend?” Shiro laughed. 

“Why do you think I came? Katie said he’s on the team. I gotta get a look at this guy,” Matt said, craning his neck around to scope out all of the scattered cheerleaders. 

“That’s him, on the bike,” Shiro said, cocking his head to the front as he buckled his seatbelt. 

“Which one?” Matt asked, and Shiro looked up in surprise. 

Sitting in all his long legged glory on the back of Keith’s bike, was Lance. He was buckling his helmet and the two were obviously bickering. 

“The driver,” Shiro said. 

“Uh huh,” Matt said, picking up on something in Shiro’s voice or face that even Shiro hadn’t noticed. “So, who’s the guy on the back of the bike?” 

“That’s just Lance,” Shiro said, trying to play it cool even though his mind was throwing out adjectives like ‘cute,’ and ‘sweet,’ and ‘funny.’ “He’s a base on the team. New guy.” 

Shiro nodded, like that was all he had to say, but it was enough for Matt to narrow his eyes and smirk like he’d caught Shiro in something. 

“Uh huh,” he said again, both of them watching as Keith set off on the bike.

 

/ / 

 

The competition hall, which turned out to be a local high school, was insanely crowded. Lance and Keith were pushed shoulder to shoulder in the entrance hall as they waited to sign in the team. It was the duty of whoever arrived first to sign the team in, but that didn’t stop Lance from complaining. 

“It’s so crowded,” Lance whined. “And why are all the coaches in line? It wouldn’t be so bad if it was cheerleaders who were pressing up on me.” He glared at the plump man next to him, one of the few coaches waiting beside them. 

“At least you have me,” Keith said blandly. 

By the time they had approached the front of the line, Lance noticed a few familiar uniforms floating around near the entrance. He stuck an arm up over the crowd and waved them over. Allura was the first one to break through the crowd. 

“Did they give us a room number yet?” Allura asked, leaning over Keith who had bent over to fill out their paperwork. 

“201,” Keith hummed impatiently. 

“Perfect,” Allura answered before turning to Lance. “Are you ready for your first big show?” 

“Born ready,” Lance said, his voice more nervous than he’d thought it would be. Allura hadn’t noticed, flitting away into the crowd, but when he turned, he came face to face with an amused looking Keith. 

“Born ready? Really? You sound like you’re about to piss your pants,” Keith laughed. 

“Oh shut up, I am NOT nervous. I’ve totally got this in the bag,” Lance shot back.

Keith grabbed Lance’s wrist, pulling him back through the crowd. But he was barely looking where he was going. Instead, his eyes were focused on Lance’s, staring at him intensely as he pushed through the ocean of people, counting on them to get out of his way. 

“I know you do,” Keith said. There was no doubt in his voice or in his face. His deep gaze showed nothing but confidence in Lance. Lance’s heart began hammering in his chest. Nobody looked at him like that, like he was a sure thing.

Everybody saw Lance as a flakey, pun-slinging half-asser. But Keith was looking at him like he’d never doubted Lance’s skill on the cheer mats. He felt a twinge of guilt when he thought of how he’d snapped at Keith at yesterday’s practice. He looked so sure of Lance, like Lance was dependable. 

Once they were through the crowd, Keith’s hand broke away from Lance’s wrist, leaving him to flounder in the loss of sensation. Keith never looked back, continuing toward the stairwell. Lance followed silently. 

They were walking down an empty hallway when Keith spoke again.

“Just so you know, you can be nervous and sure of yourself. You can be nervous and do well,” Keith said. 

“Nerves mess me up,” Lance admitted. “That’s why I never pitched a game. Coach knew I was too nervous.” 

“Coach didn’t let you pitch because he thought I had a golden arm,” Keith said. “Coach is an asshole.”

“Yeah well, you weren’t ever nervous,” Lance mumbled. 

Keith stopped, his sneakers squeaking on the newly waxed floor. He reached out again for Lance, this time grabbing his arms and staring Lance right in the face. 

“I was always nervous. The team was counting on me and I’d never had that responsibility before. I just didn’t let it stop me. I’m nervous now. Nervous I’m going to fumble a lift or miss a queue and ruin our team’s chances. But I won’t let that stop me, and neither will you,” Keith said fiercely. “You are good at this. You know the routine. You have every right to be in this competition with us and you’re going to do great. Stop worrying and start having fun. Okay?” 

Keith’s words were sweet, reassuring, but he said them with a bite that almost made Lance think he was being scolded. He blinked a few times, trying to put everything in order in his head. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Okay. Fun,” Lance repeated and Keith clapped him roughly on the arms.

“Good,” Keith nodded, letting Lance go and continuing down the hall. 

Lance followed, continuing to let Keith’s words set in. He was smiling when they met up with the rest of the team. 

 

/ / 

 

Hunk stood in the back of the pack. His arms were straight. He was smiling. He let his eyes travel to the side, nodding and smiling at Lance who stood across the mats from him. Lance nodded and smiled back before both of their heads snapped back to the front of the room, trying to ignore the massive audience that was waiting to watch their competition piece. 

The music began with the blaring of canons and a hype-man yelling about the greatness of ‘The Lions.’ Hunk’s arms snapped to the side with the rest of his team. He recognized their perfect synchronism but it was the last time during the performance that he had a chance to notice. 

For the rest of the routine, Hunk and the rest of the team had only the mind-space to dedicate to their moves. Everyone was flipping, dancing, or flying. There was no time to look around and check up on anyone. 

Even Lance had stopped his over-thinking. Until the big lift, he barely even registered that he was competing at all. It was when he was bent over, hands waiting for Nyma’s foot, her hands pressing on his back, that he even realized where they were in the dance. 

“Ready, six, seven, eight,” Rolo said, as they bounced Nyma up into the air. 

Lance didn’t stutter when Nyma lifted off the ground. He stood tall, her foot landing flawlessly into his palms before he smoothly switched his hand position and thrust her higher into the air. He looked up, only to make sure she was even, and saw her hand take Pidge’s. 

Then, the routine was over and neither Hunk nor Lance really knew how it went, but they were standing in their respective corners, waving and smiling at the cheering crowd. 

They ran off the mats and Lance felt his hand being grabbed for the millionth time that day. This time, when he looked, it was Allura who had grasped his hand. 

“That was amazing! You did so well!” Allura said, a giant smile on her face. There were sparkles that bounced off the light that hit her face. She looked otherworldly and happier than Lance had ever seen her. “You hit that lift perfectly!” 

She ran ahead of him, not waiting for a response and a hand clapped between his shoulders, this time, it was Keith. 

Keith didn’t look as happy. In fact, he didn’t look particularly happy at all. He just had that neutral look on his face like he always wore. Then his smile quirked up, just slightly, on one side. 

“See? I told you you had nothing to worry about.” 

 

/ / 

 

“Keith! Over here!” Shiro called when they were back in the parking lot. It was the first time since they’d arrived that they had a chance for introductions and Shiro was waiting excitedly for Keith to meet the Holts. 

Keith wasn’t as excited. He wasn’t a people person. He knew that. It was his biggest weakness and meeting new people wasn’t high on his list. But for Shiro, he plastered on a half smile and trotted up to the group. 

“Keith, this is Mr. Holt, Pidge’s dad,” Shiro said, pausing so they could shake hands. Then he clapped a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “And this is Matt. He’s been dying to meet you.” 

“Matt, this is Keith, my boyfriend.” 

“I’m so sorry that you have to deal with this guy,” Matt said, cocking his head over to Shiro, a smile on his lips. 

“He’s alright,” Keith answered. He wasn’t sure what to say to Matt’s joke, but Matt laughed so he counted it as a victory. 

“Keith’s an amazing artist,” Shiro boasted and before he could continue gushing, Pidge ran up, bursting between Keith and Shiro. 

“Did you see the air I caught on that basket toss?” Pidge asked, excitement in her voice. “I’m surprised they didn’t disqualify us for kicking some serious ass!”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Matt said with a laugh. “You just barely placed in there.”

“Barely placed? We were third! Out of like 10 teams! And we had half their numbers!” Pidge said, punching Matt playfully on the shoulder. 

Keith didn’t stick around to watch the playful sibling banter. He used Pidge as a distraction and bailed out as soon as eyes were off of him. He didn’t know how he fit into that dynamic. He didn’t know how to come off as a nice boyfriend for Shiro’s sake or like a good friend for Pidge’s. He didn’t want to let the people he cared about down, but he didn’t understand how to pander to a parent. He didn’t know what parents would think of him, especially because most adults’ perception of him wasn’t positive. 

He saw Lance wading through the crowd, looking almost lost. He began moving toward him, only to see that Lance’s meandering path had turned into a B-line for a middle-aged couple. ‘More parents’ Keith guessed. One look at the couples’ faces cemented the notion. Lance was practically a split image of the two. 

He turned on his heel, heading for the empty halls of the school. After turning down a few hallways, he sunk down to the floor and pulled a sketchbook from his cheer bag. He sketched as an excuse to stay away from all of the happy families. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance’s hands were shaking as he pushed out of the competition hall and into the crowd of spectators. He stood as tall as he could, his chin up, looking for his dad over the crowd. He could feel his hands starting to get clammy. Then, his eyes fell on the only two people who were standing still in the churning crowd. He had found them. 

His father was tall and thin, like Lance was, poking out over most of the crowd. Everyone told Lance that he was a spitting image of his father, but he had a hard time seeing it. Sure, he saw it in old pictures, but with his father’s staple, black hair and thick mustache, it was hard for him to see it otherwise. Not to mention, he had his mother’s bright blue eyes and her abundance of freckles. 

As it was, it was his mother who saw him first. She bounced on the balls of her feet, waving a chubby arm his way. 

“Mama,” Lance said with a tired smile when he reached her, falling into her welcoming hug. He almost didn’t want to pull away, afraid of what expression would be gracing his father’s face. But he had to. He couldn’t stay in the protective arms of his mother forever. 

“Dad,” Lance said as he looked to his father. It came out more formal than he’d meant it. His father smiled at him, welcoming him into a hug of his own. And Lance was more than shocked. He scrambled to accept the hug, holding tight to the back of his dad’s shirt. “Dad?” He said when he finally pulled away to see his father’s face. 

“Lance, what is all of this? You’re doing this too now?” He asked and Lance’s stomach dropped. 

“Not, exactly,” he said, looking to his mother as both of their faces turned to slight confusion. “I quit baseball,” he said, nearly choking on the words. 

His parents shared a concerned look and Lance stepped back from his father, breaking their contact. Both of their brows were crinkled with worry. 

“Why did you quit?” His father asked.

Lance felt like a failure. His parents had left their country to make a good life for him and he couldn’t even play a few years of baseball in return. The answers on his tongue all sounded so vapid now in front of his father. ‘Because they benched me,’ or ‘because the guys didn’t like me.’ Those were barely reasons at all.

“I just wasn’t happy with it anymore,” Lance said. “The team, the coach, they were making me unhappy.” 

“Well, then I’m happy you quit,” his father answered. He reached out for Lance’s arm, squeezing it supportively. Lance looked into his father’s eyes and there was pure honesty there, support that he hadn’t expected to find. 

“You are?” Lance asked. “You’re not mad that I’m not a baseball player anymore? That you won’t have a reason to go to the game?” 

“I go to all these games to see you, not to see a baseball game. Baseball is,” he shared a look with Lance’s mother, “very boring to watch. That’s why your mother only comes once in a while.”

They both laughed. Lance processed it, shell shocked for a moment before he joined in. 

“So, you really don’t mind that I switched sports?” Lance asked, looking between his smiling parents. 

“Not at all, baby,” his mother said, pinching lightly at his cheek. “You’re very good at cheerleading, reminds me of your dancing days.” She shimmied her shoulders toward him playfully.

“I am pretty good, aren’t I?” Lance said with a grin, joining her mini-dance.

“I’m glad that you’re happy,” Lance’s dad said. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Lance said, his face screwed up into a wide smile. He dove into another hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his father. 

 

/ / 

 

“Hey,” Allura said, her soft voice echoing down the hall. Keith nodded, shoving his sketchbook back down into his bag. “What’re you doing here?” She asked, sliding down to sit next to him. 

“Escaping the crowd,” Keith said. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Shiro was looking for you,” Allura said and Keith sighed. 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

“I think he’s afraid he scared you off. What with meeting the Holts,” Allura elaborated even though Keith wished she wouldn’t.

“He didn’t scare me off. I just don’t do the parent thing,” Keith tried to explain. Not that Allura would get it. She was technically an orphan now, he guessed, but her parents had raised her at least. She’d known what parents were like. She still had Coran. But Keith’s parents had abandoned him in the desert. There was a stark difference in their upbringing that just wasn’t compatible to a shared understanding of the situation. 

“They won’t bite. The Holts are really nice,” Allura said, but Keith didn’t respond. “Did Lance introduce you to his parents? He was practically throwing them at the rest of the team.” 

“No, I saw that bullet coming a mile away,” Keith said. “Dodged it.” 

“Aw, it was cute. He was so excited. Like a puppy,” Allura said.

Keith laughed. If Lance had heard Allura say that he’d be more like a kicked puppy than anything else, ego wounded. 

“He did well today,” Allura said. “I didn’t think he would.” She sounded guilty and it caught Keith’s attention. 

“Why not?” He asked. 

“I ran into his baseball captain last week. Lotor, or something? I think? He told me that Lance cracks under pressure and that’s why they had to replace him. I didn’t think much of it, until he started messing up yesterday at practice. But, he pulled through. He did really well,” Allura said. 

Keith’s stomach turned. 

“Listen, don’t talk to that guy. He’s a jerk. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Lance can handle himself,” Keith said, taking Allura by surprise. 

“I didn’t think you liked Lance,” she said. 

“I don’t,” Keith said, turning his head, trying to hide the blush on his face. “I just know that he’s capable. There’s a difference.”

“Okay,” Allura said, sounding almost sarcastic. Keith looked back at her to see if he could confirm it, but she just smiled back at him. 

“You ready to learn a new dance by Saturday?” Allura asked. 

“Saturday? What’s Saturday?” Keith asked. 

“Carwash.” 

“You’re kidding me,” Keith said. 

“Nope. I’m sending out the video tonight, so make sure you have a semi-handle on the moves before practice tomorrow?” She asked. He nodded, knowing she’d need help teaching newer cheerleaders the moves. 

“Sure thing, Coach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know if you see any typos/mistakes!! Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> carwash and * drama *

There was a common belief in some kind of higher power on the day of the carwash. Sun shone through the clouds so brightly that it carried with it an uncharacteristically warm day for the season. 

Allura had spent all of her spare time writing GO LIONS in puffy paint along matching black bikini tops and dying strings different colors of VU’s color scheme. And now, under the sun’s warm rays, they wouldn’t have to wear jackets over them. The sun spared them from looking like ill-prepared idiots, a stereotype she wasn’t keen on enforcing. 

The mood was light, much to Allura’s surprise. It seemed that she was the only one with a negative view on the whole carwash scene. She reasoned with herself, trying to attribute it to a cultural difference. Americans. 

And what was more American than this? Being camped out in front of a McDonalds in revealing bikini tops and short shorts, waving car wash signs for a fundraiser. The thought of NASCAR rushed through her head, but she shivered and pushed it away. No one else seemed to find the fundraiser trashy, so she would force the thoughts away whenever they arose. 

The team arrived in duos and trios, still sleepy eyed, but happy that it wasn’t practice. No laps, no pyramids, no drills, just washing cars and dancing. For the most part, the team was smiling and joking. The one exception, as was always the exception, was Keith. He kept to himself while waiting for cars to pull up. He drank black coffee from a McDonalds cup and scowled. 

“Allura!” Pidge called. She was just arriving, waving an arm to Allura. 

Allura could see that, hanging from the pocket of Pidge’s baggy shorts, was the bikini top she’d been given. She was instead wearing a black t-shirt, the sleeves cut off, and ‘Go Lions!!’ written in green acrylic paint over the center. 

“Hello, Pidge,” Allura said, smiling down at her teammate. 

“Here,” she said, quickly handing the bikini top over to Allura. “It’s not really my style. Keith lent me some paint,” Pidge pointed down to her shirt.

“That’s fine,” Allura said, but before she could take the top from Pidge’s hands, another dark hand quipped in, snagging the string bikini. 

“Not fair,” Lance said, faking a bratty whine. “We didn’t get any team swag.” 

He was already topless, his broad shoulders taking in the sunshine. He playfully held the triangles up to Hunk’s chest. He let out a low whistle and Hunk pushed Lance’s hands away. He had a small blush on his face but was smiling at the gesture. 

“Damn, Buddy, you’d look good in this get-up,” Lance said. “We all know Pidge isn’t gonna fill this thing out.” 

“Hey!” Pidge yelped, swatting at Lance who sidestepped out of her way. 

“I think you’d look better in it, Lance,” Hunk laughed. “Doesn’t look like Pidge wants it anyway.” 

“Yeah, Lance,” Pidge said, egging him on. “You’d look just spiffy in it,” she said sarcastically, nudging Hunk playfully with an elbow.

“You think?” Lance said, holding it up to his own chest. Again, he let out another low whistle. “Guess you’re right,” Lance said, laughing as he began tying the strings to hold the bathing suit in place. 

When he had secured the triangles, although somewhat lopsidedly, he put his arms in the air, shimmying his chest toward Pidge. 

“Oh gross, get those things away from me!” She laughed, shoving at Lance. 

“Aw, come on. Allura likes it,” he said, shimmying toward Allura. He grinned when he got a laugh from her. 

“You look positively ridiculous,” Allura said, hiding her laugh in her hands. 

“Huh? Positively radiant, you say?” Lance said. He began to dance around the other cheerleaders who, for the most part, joined in. 

Allura took it in, realizing that, maybe, everyone else was right. Maybe this would be fun. 

Until Lance bumped into Keith. 

The second their shoulders collided, every other cheerleader who had been playing along with Lance turned tail and returned quietly to where they’d come from. Coffee cascaded down the side of Keith’s cup, spilling out over the pavement of the parking lot but Lance didn’t stop his playful dance.

“Fucking watch where you’re-” Keith began, spinning to face Lance. His sentence broke off when he saw Lance, grinning and trotting around in his little black bikini top. 

Keith had seen Lance change in the locker room in passing, but he had never seen him strutting around topless like he was white girl wasted on spring break. 

“Wow, Keith, you like what you see?” Lance asked teasingly. 

“You look so unbelievably stupid,” Keith said, eyes snapping back up to Lance’s eyes. 

This made Lance stop the little dance-like foot movements he had been doing. His cocky smile turning directly into an annoyed frown. 

“Not as stupid as you look, crying over here in the corner. What’s wrong? MCR break up again?” 

“Who?” Keith asked.

“The emo band?” Lance said, Keith’s confusion only messing him up for a moment. “Whatever, you look dumb sulking over here.” 

“I’m not sulking,” Keith shot back. 

“You’re not NOT sulking,” Lance said. 

“Take that thing off,” Keith said, snapping one of the triangles over Lance’s chest. Lance yelped, jumping back. 

“Keith’s trying to undress me!” Lance called to the other cheerleaders, as if they weren’t all watching the commotion anyway. 

“I am not!” Keith called back, his cheeks coloring. “You’re infuriating!” 

“Keith! Lance!” Shiro’s bold and controlling tone came down through their conversation. Lance tried to pretend his knees didn’t shake at the sound. 

“He started it,” Lance said, voice wavering embarrassingly as he pointed to Keith. 

“Fuck off,” Keith said, under his breath. 

“Keith,” Shiro warned, hearing the comment and sending Keith a sharp look.  
“Listen, you two. We’re here to have a good time and raise some money for the team. No fighting. And Lance?” Shiro asked. “Take that thing off.” 

Lance felt his face heat up with a blush when Shiro nodded to the bathing suit top. He struggled to untie the strap behind his back. Shiro sighed, his face turning pink as he reached behind to pull the string of the bikini and release it from Lance’s freckled chest. 

 

/ / 

 

By the time Shiro had separated Keith and Lance, a few cars had pulled into the ‘carwash zone,’ which was just the empty half of the McDonalds parking lot. And once the first few cars were in, a steady stream of cars continued to pull up for the good part of the day. 

Allura promised each car a performance if they returned at 3 o’clock. She also reminded them that it was a fundraising event and any extra donations at that time were welcome and encouraged. 

The parking lot that they were stationed in got a surge of guests at 2 o’clock. It seemed there were plenty of people who didn’t want to miss the show. Some were returns, parking their cars and sitting on the hoods. Some were restaurant go-ers who sat by the big open windows, waiting for the show with their food. Most, though, were fellow students, following the puffy-paint posters down from campus to the event. 

“Can you believe this?” Hunk asked, stepping up beside Allura and Shay where they were washing down a windshield for an elderly lady. He began scrubbing the drivers side window after waving kindly at the woman inside. “This is a great turn out.” 

“I know, I can’t believe so many students came,” Shay said, nodding to the group in the parking lot that now resembled a tiny tailgate. They all stood a safe distance away. Some were drinking out of red cups. Others were pouring nips into their McDonalds cups, making DIY vodka sodas. 

“I just hope they don’t think we’re a joke,” Allura sighed, looking wistfully over her shoulder. 

Hunk clapped a hand on her bare shoulder and smiled. 

“You gotta quit worrying,” Hunk said. Shay nodded beside Allura. “Everyone is having a great time. Just have fun. No one is gonna think any less of us for having fun. Except for maybe Keith,” Hunk said, eyes drifting to Keith who was washing a car alone. “But he’s already on our side.” 

Allura couldn’t help but chuckle at that. 

“Hunk’s right,” Shay said, flicking her fingers so that soapy bubbles floated toward Allura. “It’s a fun day, stop worrying about the team and the school and all that stuff and just live in the moment.” 

Allura smiled, blowing a few bubbles at Shay as Hunk continued to scrub down the car’s windows. 

“You two are right,” she said, “I’ll try to have fun, promise.” 

 

/ / 

 

Keith went to grab a sopping sponge from a soapy bucket when his hand met another. He looked up to see Lance reaching for the same sponge. 

“Can you stay out of my way for two minutes?” Keith asked, grabbing the sponge. But Lance didn’t let up. He held tight to the sponge too. 

“Out of your way?” Lance asked, tugging the sponge closer to himself. “You’re the one who’s in my way!” 

“I was here first!” Keith said, pulling the sponge closer to himself, starting a mini tug of war with Lance. 

“No you weren’t! I was!” 

“Boys!” Allura called from the car beside them. “Wash the car,” she said, her voice filled with a tired, motherly air. 

Keith scowled and Lance stuck his tongue out. 

Then, Keith let go of the sponge. 

The slack that Keith gave sent Lance stumbling backwards. His foot splashed in the soapy bucket, soaking his sneaker in cold water. With the heavy bucket abstracting his balance, Lance fell back onto the warm pavement. 

“HEY! These are custom sneakers!” Lance nearly shrieked. 

Keith couldn’t help it. The look of pure surprise in Lance’s big blue eyes was too much. He began to laugh, a full body laugh. Lance stared back. That smile. He’d seen it once before, unguarded, but drunken, the night of Shiro’s party. But this was different. He was, oddly beautiful, handsome, even. 

“Shut up,” Lance said, throwing the sopping sponge at Keith’s naked torso. It hit him with a wet slap, but just barely dampened his laughter. “Asshole,” Lance muttered. 

Keith just barely caught the sponge, soapy suds slipping through his slender fingers and down onto his maroon board shorts. He was still laughing, but it was dying out now, his smile fading quickly. 

"Here," he said, reaching a hand out for Lance. 

Lance grabbed it and let Keith pull him up. 

"Truce?" Keith asked. 

"For now," Lance muttered, turning his head away to hide the pink blush that was setting into his cheeks as he shook the, now empty bucket, from his foot. 

 

/ / 

 

"Sorry I was a dick this morning," Keith said out of the blue as they made their way down the next car. 

As it turned out, the guys were doing most of the work while the female cheerleaders were being chatted up and distracted. Right now, Nyma was giggling at the front of the car about the dance performance that was about to happen while Keith and Lance surrounded the car in suds. 

"Huh?" Lance asked. 

"You were just having fun. Sorry," Keith said again. Lance stopped working to look over to Keith. 

His cool eyes were cast down as he scrubbed at a patch of dried dirt. He was blushing. 

Lance tried to gulp down the lump that formed in his throat. 

"Uh, it's cool." Lance said. "I shoulda just said sorry and left you alone." 

They were silent, but the awkwardness that was left was suffocating Lance. 

"Is everything, like, alright?" He asked. He could practically see the storm cloud that re-appeared over Keith's head and he wished he'd left the awkwardness. 

"Shouldn't have to be here," Keith mumbled, just barely loud enough for Lance to hear. 

"Well, it is kind of a team thing. The rest of us are here," Lance said, annoyed at Keith's sudden seeming distaste for team events.

Keith shot a glare at Lance. 

"I have shit to do," Keith shot back. 

"Like we don't? You think your arts and craft project is more important than my chem. paper?" Lance accused. 

"It's not like that," Keith shot back. "I missed a figure class for this. I can't just make that up without a model. And I had to call into work. Do you know what that means for me?" 

"You don't go to dinner and a movie with Shiro this weekend?" Lance jabbed. He wasn’t sure if he was saying it because Keith was acting ungrateful or because he was jealous. He didn’t linger on that thought though, because he suddenly didn’t know who, or what, he was jealous of. 

"You know where I live," Keith said. And the comment froze Lance cold. He hadn’t really thought about it before. Yeah, Keith lived on the bad side of town, but he was in college. Everyone had shitty apartments in college. Right? He thought back to the decrepit building and suppressed a shudder. He didn’t know any other students who lived there. In fact, he specifically remembered college tour guides telling him, and everyone else, to avoid that part of town. 

It struck Lance that Keith wasn’t living there to save up or to skimp on rent. He was there because he had to be. The thought of Keith’s work schedule suddenly resurfaced in his mind too. Keith was always moving, school and cheer and work. He truly didn’t have the time to be here. If one took more time, another had to give. 

"Yeah," Lance said, not daring to make eye contact with Keith. "I get it." 

"Keep telling yourself that, pretty boy." Keith sighed, rolling his eyes. Nobody on the team, especially not Lance ‘custom-sneakers,’ McClain, understood. "Keep telling yourself that."

Keith was about to move on to the next car when Lance called out for him. 

"If you need help with anything, I can help, you know?" Lance suggested weakly. 

Keith continued on anyway. 

 

/ / 

 

Pidge stood in the front of the pack, their team forming a triangle in front of the crowd. For traffic’s sake, the performance had to be on the grass, not that it mattered to any of them. There were no stunts or tricks, just a simple dance routine, so the odds of one of them falling onto the pavement was null. 

Pidge had whined about not having a stunt, but Allura kept the idea off the table. It was to be a simple performance because they didn’t have enough time to rehearse for anything more extravagant. Unfortunately for her, Pidge wasn’t one to take no for an answer. 

Their music played through a few synced speakers, not quite as loud as they had hoped it would be, but loud enough for the crowd to hear it. They were surprised when the start of their performance was met with light cheers, mostly from their peers. 

The dance routine was one that was modified from a number they’d practiced early in the season. The stunts were out and some of the moves were simplified for the short notice, but the crowd would never know. The crowd cheered and clapped and pointed when they saw moves that they liked. Allura was beaming and not just because she was a cheerleader and it was part of her routine. 

Looking out at the crowd, as she hit every move in sync with her team, was exhilarating. It was such a different crowd than the performance circuit. It felt more ‘home-town,’ than she was used to. Strangers stopped to watch, dropping a few dollars or some spare change into their donation box. None of them taking the time to note Lance’s elbow not hitting straight or Nyma’s flub on a dance move. 

As the routine demanded, she made her way to the front of their formation. She began to head the dance with pride. She was so caught up in the crowd’s positive reaction that she didn’t hear the count for the stunt that had set up behind her.  
In Pidge’s mind, what Allura didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her, and a stunt was going to be a big crowd pleaser. She’d roped Lance and Hunk into it and in the time that Shiro had to give them a warning look, her feet were already in their hands and thrusting her up toward the sky. 

She shot up, the crowd roaring when she burst into a star in mid-air. She came down hard, Shiro rushing to be a sudden back-spot. On Hunk’s left, Keith had seen the stunt and was ready to abandon his spot too if he had to. But Pidge landed safely in Hunk and Lance’s arms. They bounced her back into the grass, safe and sound, and they continued like nothing un-planned had happened. 

Lance shrugged when he caught another scolding look from Shiro. He didn’t doubt that he’d be hearing about this later. If not at the end of the dance, than at the next practice. Luckily for him, as the dance ended, Allura tugged Shiro up to the front for an impromptu speech and thank-you spiel. 

The students were going wild and even though most weren’t financially eligible for a donation, their enthusiasm seemed to spur on other patrons. Allura beamed up at Shiro, shaking his arm lightly. 

“We’re going to have the support of the students,” Allura said to him. She was excited but kept her tone low so others wouldn’t hear the drama. “We’re going to be able to save the team!” 

 

/ / 

 

The crowd had dwindled and the cheerleaders were tidying up the parking lot. Keith yanked an old, worn sweater over his head and double-checked his bag for the key ring he needed. When he saw it was there, he yanked his bag over his shoulder and headed for Shiro.

"Hey, baby," Shiro said, kissing Keith as he approached. "Allura asked me to help out with some finance stuff. I'll meet you at your place tonight?" 

"Uh, sure," Keith said. He hadn't asked Shiro to help him with the workload that taking a day off had brought him, but he was sort of counting on it. He knew if he asked, Shiro would go back to Keith’s and help but Allura needed Shiro’s help more than Keith did anyway. Her team was on the line. 

"You sure?" He asked, noticing the hesitation on Keith's voice. 

"Yeah, I'll see you at home," Keith said, leaning up for another kiss. "Dinner?" He asked and Shiro nodded. 

"I'll bring it." 

Keith turned for the bike in the corner of the parking lot. He passed the entrance to McDonald's just as Lance was exiting. 

Lance had tugged a damp t-shirt on and it clung to his triangular shoulders. Keith kept his eyes on the ground. They fell into step beside each other, but for a few paces said nothing at all. 

Then Keith sighed. 

"Your offer still stand?" He asked. 

"Uh huh," Lance nodded, tossing a half finished milkshake into an open dumpster as they passed by the back of the building. He took the extra helmet without words when Keith held it out. He swung a leg behind Keith and curled up to him. It was almost too comfortable. 

"We have to stop by the business building first. Then back downtown. That cool?" 

"Sure," Lance said when he realized Keith couldn't see him nodding. Then Keith kicked his bike to life. 

 

/ / 

 

Allura threaded through a stack of bills, counting them quickly, like a machine. When she was done, she gave the tally to Shiro and he jotted it down in a notebook, then on an excel spreadsheet. Allura liked to have two copies of everything and she counted on a handwritten copy to fix any computer mistakes. Shiro thought it was unnecessary but if it made her more comfortable he was willing to help. 

They’d been talking back and forth emptily. They were both busy with their tasks and were really only talking for the comfort of sound in the quiet room. Every topic was light and safe and comfortable. 

“So, how are you and Keith doing?” Allura asked, thumbing through a pile of five-dollar bills. Her voice was lazy, just barely registering what she’d asked. 

“What?” Shiro asked, sitting up in his chair. His eyes were on Allura, the question knocking him out of his daze. It had sounded pointed to him, like she knew something. “Why would you ask that? We’re fine,” Shiro said. 

Allura looked up from her own work, stopping her count and not minding that she had lost place. His sudden abruptness was more telling than anything he’d said and she quirked an eyebrow. 

“. . . . . . . . . . oh?” Allura asked. “Are you?” 

“Yes!” Shiro said, too quickly. Allura was sure that the sheen of sweat on his forehead wasn’t there a moment ago. 

“Okay,” she said, her voice filled with suspicion. She didn’t look away from him, waiting for more details. 

Shiro deflated, his posture fading, knowing that Allura was waiting for him to say something.

“Let’s just. . . . . get back to work?” He suggested, his eyes drifting back to the computer screen. He hoped that it would hide him from Allura’s eyes, but he still felt them on him. 

“Okay,” she said. She tapped her pile of fives on the table and began thumbing through them again. “I’m here if you want to talk,” she said when she was halfway through the pile. 

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Shiro said, smiling softly at her before she gave him her count and he continued to take down the numbers. 

 

/ / 

 

"This place is so sketchy," Lance said as they wound their way into the basement of the business building. 

Keith said nothing, just kept weaving his way through the maze-like hallways. They went down another floor that Lance hadn't known existed. There were only 5 or so classrooms down there. All were locked. Keith took a key off of a ring of about 50 that he'd pulled from his backpack. 

"Wow, janitor much?" Lance laughed. 

"Lance, can you shut up for like, ten minutes?" Keith asked. "I know you're helping me, so I'm trying to be nice. But everything you say is insulting." 

"You're kidding me, dude. I just joked that you . . . were . . ." 

"A janitor? I am. It’s work-study. And I know you think it's a shit job that's below your rocket scientist fantasy, but it pays the bills." 

"I didn't mean," Lance began, but Keith cut him off. 

"Come on," he said holding the door open for him. 

Keith opened a little locker in the art classroom and took out his large portfolio. 

"I'm gonna need you to hold this on the bike for me." 

Lance nodded and took it. 

Keith left the room, waiting for Lance to leave before locking up again. 

Back on the bike, Lance held tight to the portfolio, the strap over his chest, an arm securing it so it wouldn't flap around or fly away. His other hand was tight on Keith's flat stomach, his fingers gripping his sweater tightly. His thighs were squeezing around Keith's for added security. 

He was a little light headed when Keith finally parked the bike behind his building.

He was very light headed by the time he’d finally reached Keith’s top floor apartment. No elevator. He didn’t consider himself out of shape, but Keith jogged the steep steps with ease and Lance was huffing and puffing by the time they’d reached Keith’s door. 

Keith nodded into the apartment door that he’d just opened, letting Lance go in first. It was dark, pitch-blackness lying like a thick blanket over the whole place. Lance stepped in, but didn’t dare go farther, lest he run into the corner of a coffee table or stub his toe on a sofa. Keith stepped in behind him, flipping the light on and bathing the apartment in light. 

Except, Lance wouldn’t exactly call it an apartment. Even saying that it was a studio was a stretch. Keith’s apartment consisted of a fridge, a single square of counter, and an oven to one corner, a metal file cabinet pushed up beside what Lance presumed to be a bathroom door, and a twin sized mattress on the floor kitty corner to the kitchen. 

That was it. The rest of the apartment was bare save for the easel set up in the empty floor space between Keith’s limited belongings. 

He felt awkward, like he should address the fact that Keith was hurting for material possessions. 

“It’s okay,” Keith said. “I know it’s a shit hole.” 

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Lance said defensively, trying to convince even himself that it wasn’t what he was going to say. 

“You can put that over there,” Keith said nodding to the portfolio and turning toward the ‘kitchen.’ Lance watched as Keith pulled an old kettle over a burner on the stove top before turning to set the portfolio by Keith’s file cabinet. “Tea?” Keith offered. 

Lance had never had tea in his life. He never understood why anyone would want to drink leaf water. Especially hot leaf-water. He couldn’t imagine it tasted like anything but dirt and was always, irrationally, afraid there would be twigs floating in it. Disgusting. 

“Yeah, sure,” Lance answered. He stuck his hands in his pockets. He would have taken the time to look around, but the only thing he could have perceived to be worth looking at was the file cabinet, and that seemed a little too nosey, even for him. “So, what else do you need me to do?” Lance asked as Keith got mugs out from a cabinet above the oven. 

“Nothing,” Keith said. 

“Bullshit. You said you needed a model earlier,” Lance said. 

Keith rolled his eyes, head lolling to the side to give Lance a stale glare. 

“You’re not a model,” he said, opening a glass jar and dropping a spoon in. 

“I could be. After all, you were the one who said I was pretty,” Lance teased, tugging on a piece of hair that’d escaped the back of Keith’s ponytail. 

Keith paused, his hands stilling where he’d been scooping loose tea into tea infusers. Lance noticed that one was shaped like a cat. It was the only whimsical thing in the whole place and Lance decided that it must have been a gift. Even then, Lance was surprised that Keith hadn’t thrown it away. 

“I never said that,” Keith mumbled and Lance could see the tops of his ears begin to turn red. 

“Face it, no one can resist my charm,” Lance said. He turned, heading for the center of the room. He peeled off his shirt just as Keith turned to berate him. The words died in Keith’s throat. 

“Put your shirt back on!” Keith said, scooping the shirt off the floor and chucking it at Lance. He kept advancing on Lance, grabbing his hands and stilling them where they worked on the button of his jeans. “STOP.” 

“What? Afraid of a nude model?” Lance asked. 

“Just go sit over there,” Keith demanded, pointing to a spot on the floor. “And put your shirt on.” 

Keith poured tea as Lance wrestled his way back into his shirt. He set a cup on the floor beside Lance. Lance stayed quiet as Keith began to set up, starting with his easel. Then, he opened the door that Lance had suspected was a bathroom. He was wrong. It was a closet. 

He looked around for another door, a hatch, a window, anything that might lead to a bathroom. There was nothing. When he looked back to Keith, he was pulling a few standing lamps out from the closet. He turned them on, pointing them at Lance at different angles and intensities. 

“What’s that for?” Lance asked. 

“Shadows,” Keith answered. 

“Don’t I already have shadows?” Lance asked sarcastically. Keith sighed.

“It makes more intense shadows.” 

Keith stepped behind the easel, flipping open a tackle box that he must have taken out of the closet with the lights. Charcoal dust floated up and Keith waved it away. He stuck a pencil through the elastic that held his ponytail before straightening up. He crossed the room, Lance’s eyes following him. 

Keith leaned down, grabbing the pillow off his bed and throwing it at Lance. It hit him in the face, but he caught it, his arms wrapping around it. It smelled like Keith, and like Shiro. 

“Just get comfortable and try to sit still,” Keith said. 

 

/ / 

 

There was something attractive about the way Keith’s arms arched to make a line or stroke that was, undoubtedly, a perfect reflection of Lance’s body. It was almost romantic. Lance felt his heart squeeze and his cheeks heat up. If Keith had asked, Lance would have blamed the hot lights that Keith had aimed at him. 

Lance was lying on his back, pillow snug beneath his head and arms raised above it. He felt exposed and wished that he’d laid a different way, maybe curled up in a ball, or running back to his dorm. 

“Okay, that’s it,” Keith finally said. He dropped a spent piece of charcoal and dusted off his hands. He stepped around his easel and pulled Lance up. 

They were practically nose to nose, their hands clasped together between their chests. 

“Thanks,” Keith said, his voice so soft that Lance had to remind himself of who it was. This was Keith. Keith Kogane. What on earth was he thinking? And why was Keith looking at him like that? Eyes drifting to his lips. And why were their noses touching? And why could he taste their shared breath? 

Lance pushed further, closing the distance between them. 

It wasn’t soft, or sweet, or romantic. It picked up like snow down a mountain. They crushed their lips together and Keith was forcing his tongue into Lance’s mouth. Lance was so surprised he nearly bit down, catching a bit of Keith’s lip between his teeth. He thought Keith would push him away, but Keith practically purred into Lance’s mouth. And god was it a good sound. Overthinking be damned, Lance let his mind switch off and followed Keith’s lead. 

Keith shoved Lance up against the far wall of his studio. His hands left charcoal evidence all over Lance’s stomach as they stretched their way underneath Lance’s shirt. 

Lance whined under Keith’s attention. He grappled with Keith’s shirt, his hands taking in handfuls. Lance flipped their position, pressing Keith between himself and the wall. Lance pressed their lips together again and grinded his hips down onto Keith’s. 

Keith had other ideas. His hands slipped out of Lance’s shirt and found home on the top of Lance head, his fingers gliding through his brown hair. He pressed down, pushing Lance to his knees. 

“You sure?” Lance asked. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips almost touching the course fabric of Keith’s black jeans. But his fingers still paused where they trembled on the button of Keith’s jeans, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah,” Keith breathed out, pulling Lance’s head closer to his own hips. 

“O-okay,” Lance stuttered out, unbuttoning Keith’s jeans. He reached out to tug them down Keith’s legs, but Keith’s hands, holding hard to his hair, jerked his head away. 

“Ouch,” Lance said. The abrubt yank on his hair had knocked him off balance, and he fell back onto his butt. He looked up at Keith, trying to organize in his mind what went wrong and why Keith was zipping up his pants.

Keith looked like all angles and anger from where Lance knelt below him. He watched as Keith pushed away from the wall and past Lance. 

“What just happened?” Lance asked, turning where he sat to watch Keith sit back on the stool before his easel. He couldn’t see Keith’s face. It made him nervous. “Keith?” 

“Get. Out.” Keith ground out. 

“What?” Lance asked, his heart dropping into his stomach at the words. 

“Get the fuck out!” Keith yelled. The broken and angry tone forcing Lance to his feet. 

“You said it was okay!” Lance said, his voice uneasy and unsure. His mind was whirring. Had he been in the wrong? Should he have known that Keith had changed his mind? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do in this situation at all. “You said you were sure!” 

“I changed my mind!” Keith roared. “I fucking have a boyfriend! Fuck!” Keith said. 

Lance’s heart stuttered in his chest because, that’s right. Keith did have a boyfriend. Lance had allowed himself to forget, because that’s who he’d suddenly become. College was supposed to make him confident and sure of himself. So, why was he making out with other people’s boyfriends? Wasn’t that the number one rule of being desperate and self-conscious? 

Who cares that he was wildly attracted to the both of them? Who cares that Shiro is the sweetest person Lance had ever met? Who cares that Keith felt like sparks under his skin and that when he smiled the world tilted beneath everyone lucky enough to see it? 

They weren’t his. They weren’t even on the market. He shouldn’t have even thought of sampling their kisses or their kindness. He should have left them the hell alone. He was a nuisance. He was trouble. 

Keith was still hidden behind the easel. He knew, from the lack of movement, that Lance was still in the same place. From around the easel, he whipped a piece of charcoal Lance’s way. It hit Lance in the shoulder, leaving a dark smudge. 

“Get the fuck out!” Keith called again. 

Lance stumbled out of the apartment, pressing his hair down and dashing down the stairs. His quick pace turned into a jog on his way to campus. He was practically running by the time he’d gotten back to his dorm. 

‘FUCK,’ Lance thought, jamming the elevator button a few times once he was inside his building. He hit it again for good measure. ‘What the fuck am I doing? Keith??’ Lance thought, scolding himself. 

Lance always thought he was a good guy, strong morals, funny, talented enough. At least that’s what he’d tried to convince himself. But he never thought he was the kind of guy to hook up with other peoples’ boyfriends. And he’d gone along with Keith so easily. Was he easy? He always thought he wanted to be a player, but now he felt a little sick in the wake of everything. The kiss with Shiro hadn’t left him feeling so hot either. He felt stupid and desperate. 

Keith had yelled at him and Lance had still wanted him. It made his palms sweat. And Shiro, he was nice as ever, but it was obvious that he’d stepped back from Lance, yet Lance wanted nothing more than to force himself into Shiro’s bubble. He’d never really believed that anyone would like him, not in that sweet, couple-y way that everyone else seemed to get, but it didn’t stop him from wanting it. And now he wanted it more than ever, but even when he threw himself at two people, there wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! Next update is going to be on the 23rd!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication happens. Keith is really bad at it.

Keith ducked his head into his hands, roughly pulling his fingers through his hair. His stomach churned and sweat ran cold over his hot skin, like ice cubes sliding over the sun. 

Even though Keith knew Shiro was going to be walking through the door any minute, he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t try to clean himself up or look presentable. 

This was the end. He was going to tell Shiro. He couldn’t have this between them. And when he told Shiro, Shiro would leave. And it would be over. He’d given up his only family, his whole heart, for a sloppy kiss. 

Keith dug his fingers harder into his hair at the thought. He ground his teeth tightly together, his jaw nearly going numb with the pressure. 

The door creaked open, a greeting dying on Shiro’s lips when he saw Keith hunched over on the stool in front of his easel. 

“Keith?” Shiro asked quietly. In his hand was a paper bag full of take out but he set it down by the door when Keith lifted his face to him. 

Keith had a wild look in his eyes, distress, like a trapped animal. 

“Keith?” Shiro asked, slowly approaching. 

“We need to talk,” Keith said, his voice rough.

“Okay, baby, what is it?” Shiro asked, concern set deep in his features.

Shiro stopped in front of him, about to put his hand on Keith’s knee but Keith stood, trying to put distance between them. Shiro couldn’t help but take a step back, worry and confusion coloring his expression. Keith’s eyebrows turned down. 

“Lance was here,” Keith said, his voice like gravel. 

Now it was Shiro’s time to sweat. He knew his eyes went wide but he couldn’t help it. Lance had said he would keep their kiss a secret. Not that Shiro would have minded if Lance had wanted to tell Keith. It was understandable. But he wished that Lance had told him. Shiro wished that he’d told Keith in the first place. At least then he could have explained that it was an accident, nothing, a misstep . . . But he’d really liked the kiss. 

You could tell your boyfriend that someone kissed you if you didn’t like it, if you weren’t drenched in guilt, if you weren’t dreaming of it happening again. You keep it locked away if it was any other way. 

“I need to tell you something,” Keith said. He looked so angry. So very angry. Lance had told Keith that Shiro kissed him. NO. Lance had kissed Shiro. . . but Shiro had flirted, and baited, and wanted it. It was obvious that Keith knew.

Shiro felt the apology on his lips, desperate to let Keith know that he was guilty. He opened his mouth to speak as Keith did the same.

“And you’re going to be pissed,” Keith said.

“I’m sorry!” Shiro blurted out. Then, upon processing what Keith had said, he continued. “Wait, what?” 

“You’re sorry?” Keith asked, his anger turning to shock. “Why are you sorry??” 

“I. . . I kissed Lance,” Shiro said, confused by Keith’s confusion.

Keith’s face went blank.

“. . . . . . . What. The. Fuck?” Keith asked slowly.

“I’m so sorry! He kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I am so so sorry!” Shiro said.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Keith yelled, turning away from Shiro and stomping to the other side of the room. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t do anything! Not after the kiss! I was going to tell you but I didn’t know what to say! I’m so sorry!” 

“Shut up!” Keith said and Shiro’s lips slapped closed and he waited at attention. 

“I can’t believe that mother fucker!” Keith said, seething and blushing. “I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THAT FUCKING FUCKER!” 

“It’s not him,” Shiro said weakly, “I led him on, I was flirting, I,” 

“He fucking kissed me too!” Keith said, cutting Shiro off.

“Excuse me?” Shiro said, unable to believe it.

“That’s what I was going to tell you!” Keith shouted. “That stupid FUCK!”

Shiro’s stomach lit up with jealousy and then, something stronger, something devious and delicious and the thought of Keith kissing Lance was making his heart race. 

“You. . . kissed Lance?” 

“Okay, but you can’t judge me!” Keith said, turning on Shiro, his expression going from angry-annoyed to annoyed-nervous. “You kissed him first! And you didn’t tell me! So you don’t get to be mad!” 

Then the Shiro’s jealousy picked back up, but he wasn’t sure where the jealousy was stemming from. He didn’t know who it was directed toward. 

“Did you, do anything else with him?” Shiro asked cautiously. 

“Did you!?” Keith asked defensively. 

“NO! It was just a kiss one night! I drove him home and he kissed me.” 

“Drove him home?” Keith asked. “Drove him home from where?!”

“You’re not answering!” Shiro said, his voice rising in a near panic, that swell of jealousy and desire gripping his emotions and pulling him in two different directions. “Did you fuck him?” 

“NO!” Keith yelled back. “He. . . .” Keith paused, trying to gather his thoughts. It had been more than kissing. It had been intense and hot and angry and. . . and he had to tell Shiro. “I. . . I stopped him before he’d gotten past the button of my jeans.” 

Keith was ashamed and he looked away from Shiro. 

“Fuck,” Shiro said, his voice barely a sound in the tiny apartment. He hadn’t realized that they’d made their way to Keith’s kitchenette until he leaned against the dirty counter. He crossed his arms, his eyes looking far away.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Keith said and it felt too much like an apology. Panic rode to the surface, breaking in a swell of anger. “At least I told you!” He added, almost spitefully. 

“I’m not mad,” Shiro said, his voice calm. 

“I am!” Keith said. 

“At me?” Shiro asked. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” 

“Well, what then?” 

“I just” Keith sighed heavily. He let his shoulders slump and his eyes wandered lazily over the contents of his messy kitchen.

Shiro thought for a moment that the calm that Keith was showing was earnest, not forced. But then, as soon as he’d thought it, Keith was reaching out toward a blue mug on the sink and whipping it toward the center of the room. It crashed and shattered on the floor by Keith’s easel. 

“. . . I wanted him so fucking bad,” Keith said, his face turning a violent shade of red. He covered his face with his hands and leaned on the counter beside Shiro. 

This time, Shiro could tell by Keith’s slowing breathes, that his outward calm was true. For a moment they waited in silence. 

“Me too,” Shiro said and Keith moved his hands from his face to look at him.

“Then, what does this mean?” Keith asked and Shiro just shrugged. “I still love you,” Keith said. “And I don’t want anything to come between us.” 

“Me either,” Shiro said, his pinky slowly reaching out to graze Keith’s where their hands both rested on the edge of the counter. 

For another moment they were silent. They were at a standstill, not wanting to ruin anything, but not knowing how to go forward. 

“I lied,” Keith said, his eyes clicking back to Shiro’s. 

“About?” Shiro asked. 

“I do want something to come between us. I want Lance to come between us.” 

“You want to fight over Lance?” Shiro asked, confused. 

“No. I want Lance. Between us. Literally,” Keith said, his voice low and dominant. 

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Shiro said, although he had a hunch, and hoped he was right.

“Listen, I know it’s not traditional, or appropriate or whatever, but I want to ask out Lance. I want us to date him. I don’t want to give you up but I don’t want to let him get away. And I don’t think that you do either.”

Again there was a drawn out silence, this time with Shiro mulling it over.

“Are you sure?” Shiro asked.

“As long as it’s okay with you,” Keith answered. “As long as it’s something you want too. If it’s not, well, then I’ll deal with it.”

“Keith, I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. I didn’t want to freak you out, but I want to explore what we’re feeling. I don’t want to miss out or deny ourselves just because it’s not ‘normal,’” Shiro said. 

They both looked at each other, searching for any hesitation or untruth, but when they didn’t find any, they both smiled. Their smiles were shy, as if they were new to even their own relationship, hopeful and excited.

“But Shiro?” Keith asked, removing his hand from below Shiro’s. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and looked down at his feet. “I have to talk to him first. I have to apologize.” 

“Apologize?” Shiro asked. “For what?” 

“I yelled at him today. I got freaked out and kicked him out of here,” Keith said, his face turning red all over again. 

“Yeah, you should go do that,” Shiro said, unable to contain the smile that came from his boyfriends cluelessness. 

 

/ / 

 

Keith lifted his hand, knocking roughly on Lance’s door. He’d let a day go by without making contact and, admittedly, felt a little guilty about it. Shiro had wanted to talk to Lance right away but Keith somehow managed to convince Shiro to hold off. 

They’d agreed to give Lance some time to think. Then, before morning practice, Keith made his way to Lance’s dorm. 

“Oh, hey,” Hunk said when he swung the door open. He was surprised, which might have attributed to his not very warm welcome, or maybe, Keith conspired, Lance had told him what had happened. 

“Lance here?” Keith asked. 

“Yeah, come in,” Hunk said, stepping aside. “I’ve gotta meet Shay for breakfast, everything okay?” 

Keith nodded, stepping into the room. 

Lance, in fact, wasn’t there. Hunk took a half step back in front of the door, patting his pocket for his keys and then looking back to Keith with a smile. 

“Alright, I gotta run, but Lance will be back in like, five. You can wait here,” Hunk said before escaping out the door. 

Keith didn’t mind. Finding an excuse to get Lance away from Hunk would have probably been awkward anyway. He hadn’t even thought to prepare a line to whisk Lance away. But without the trouble of Hunk interfering, he sat down on the edge of Lance’s bed. He leaned back against the wall and pulled his legs up so they were crossed beneath him. 

He heard a crinkle when his knee hit Lance’s pillow. He reached under the pillow, noticing how soft and crisp Lance’s sheets were, until his finger tips hit paper. He retrieved it, his curiosity getting the best of him. 

A pair of positively plastic tits were plastered on the cover of an old magazine. The nipples just barely covered by an infamous pair of bunny ears. The papers crinkled in his hands, well worn. Keith couldn’t help but smile. Leave it to Lance to have an old school Playboy beneath his pillow in the age of free Internet porn. 

He used his thumb to flip the pages, quickly cycling through the bountiful girls who graced the inner pages. He turned his nose up at the 70’s style bushes between each set of legs and tried to ignore the way every set of nipple stared him angrily in the eye. 

“Keith!?” Lance said, his voice full of surprise, and maybe outrage. He barged in the room, snatching the magazine from Keith’s hands. “What are you doing here? Why are you going through my stuff? Why are your SHOES on my bed?!” 

Keith looked down at his old converse. Even though they were black, he could see the crust of dirt on the sides and wedged into the grooves in the soles. Slowly, he unraveled his legs from beneath him and removed his shoes from Lance’s pristine bed linen. 

“I thought you might want to talk,” Keith said, his voice even. 

“About what?” Lance said, but he sounded too defensive and turned away from Keith to throw his magazine on his desk. 

“You know ‘about what,’” Keith said sharply. “You kissed me.” 

“Shut up. No, I didn’t,” Lance said, turning back to Keith with his arms crossed. 

“Did too!” Keith said, lurching up to stand face to face with Lance. 

“Did not!” Lance said. He realized how childish they sounded but he couldn’t stop. 

“I was THERE, Lance,” Keith sighed. He rolled his eyes and plopped back down on the bed. 

“Fine!” Lance said finally. “Whatever, I’ll leave you alone. I won’t tell anyone. Just, leave.” 

“I don’t want to leave,” Keith said. 

“What?” Lance asked, surprise in his eyes. 

“You like me. Don’t you?” Keith asked. 

Lance wanted to push Keith from his room. He didn’t know what Keith was playing at, but he didn’t want to play along. There wasn’t any malice in his voice, but there also wasn’t any compassion or caring. He was just, asking. And Lance didn’t get his angle. 

“N.O.” Lance said, crossing his arms in front of him like an X. “No. What? No way. I do NOT like you. Actually, I hate you. What makes you think I like you?” Lance said but he was blushing brightly.

Keith plopped back down on Lance’s bed, consciously not putting his shoes up onto the blankets. 

“Well,” Keith said, leaning back against the wall that Lance’s bed sat along. “You were going to put my dick in your mouth yesterday. I’d hate to see what you do with people you like.” 

“SHUT UP!” Lance hissed. He lowered his voice as if someone else was in the room with them and he didn’t want them to hear. To be fair, the dorm walls were thin enough that Lance’s precaution might have actually been warranted. “Yes. Okay? I like you. Just shut up!” 

Lance could feel his face burning up with embarrassment, his teeth clenched tight. He didn’t dare look at Keith and instead stared out the window, crossing his arms as if he could keep Keith from looking to hard at him. 

“Good,” Keith said, reaching out to touch Lance’s crossed arms. “I like you too.” 

Lance’s head whipped around to Keith, surprise in his wide blue eyes. 

“What?” Lance asked, his voice all hopelessness and relief. But Keith didn’t answer. He just tugged Lance down to kiss him. 

Somehow, Lance had expected this kiss to be different. It came after a confession, so it should have been sweet, and slow. But, just like their other kiss, it was fast, and clumsy. Lance stumbled down onto the bed, putting his weight on Keith and Keith accepted it. 

They shifted, Lance pushing Keith farther into the mattress with his rough kisses. 

“My shoes,” Keith mumbled against Lance’s lips. He’d dragged his shoes back up over the clean sheets while they were kissing and they were now pressed, dirty soles, to Lance’s bed. 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Lance said in a heavy sigh as he continued to kiss Keith. And for a long time, they stayed like that, kissing and ignoring Keith’s dirty shoes, until both of their lips were slightly chapped and red. 

An alarm sounded from Keith’s phone, vibrating against both of their legs and resulting in half-pleasured, half-disappointed groans. Keith pushed Lance away lightly, reaching into his pocket for his phone. 

“I have to get ready for practice,” Keith sighed, slowly pulling himself out from under Lance. His lips were buzzing and he felt a twinge of guilt. Was he supposed to kiss Lance? Was that okay? He and Shiro hadn’t discussed it. He’d have to ask when they were all together, which reminded him of the task that Shiro had given him. He’d almost forgotten that he was supposed to invite Lance over, to talk. 

“Don’t,” Lance whined. 

Keith didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in for one more kiss. This one was soft and slow, the one Lance had been expecting, something sweet. 

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Keith whispered. The last thing any of them needed was for the cheer team to hear about this before they’d even figured it out themselves. 

But, just like that, the cotton candy feelings Lance was having disappeared. He ground his teeth together and nodded. 

“Good. Listen, come to my place tonight and we’ll talk about everything, okay?” Keith said began, his brain still a little fuzzy from kissing. Lance sat up, his eyebrows knitting together. “I’m not sure when Shiro is going to be there, so come early if you can.” 

“Shiro?” Lance asked. He was amazed that he could feel any worse than he had before, but the mention of Shiro somehow managed to sink him farther. Keith shrugged evasively. “Talk?” Lance asked, his brain slowly catching up to the rest of Keith’s sentence. 

Keith smirked before slipping out the door and Lance somehow doubted that talking was his only intention. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance wedged his hands between his thighs, willing them to stop shaking. He felt cold all over but his palms were wet with cold, nervous sweat. He sat on the indoor bleachers and waited for Allura to corral the team and begin practice. 

Hunk sat beside him but said nothing about Lance’s unusual quietness. Lance sighed, knowing that Hunk had noticed his down mood. It had been a few weeks that he’d been slipping into these old ruts and they seemed to stretch a little bit longer each time they hit. He didn’t want to burden Hunk. He didn’t want Hunk to hang back just because he was feeling down. Which is exactly what Hunk was doing now. 

Hunk stayed by his side, which had drawn Shay, and even though they were talking and acting like they usually would, Lance could feel Hunk watching over him. He was thankful, to have a friend who noticed and wanted to help him, but in reality, Hunk’s hovering didn’t feel like help. Not recently. 

“Alright team! Line up!” Allura finally called and Lance could let his thoughts slip back into recess. “We’re a small team,” she said, beginning what sounded like a pep-talk. 

Beside him, he heard Keith sigh. He hadn’t even noticed Keith falling into place beside him and his stomach shot into his throat at the realization. He looked away only to meet eyes with Shiro, who stood beside Allura. Shiro smiled sweetly at him, but Lance dropped his head to the floor. 

‘Does he know?’ Lance asked himself. ‘Is Keith standing too close to me? Can Shiro tell? Are our lips swollen? Does he know we’ve been kissing?’ 

Lance took half a step away from Keith, nearly brushing arms with Hunk on the other side of him. He ignored Hunk’s worried look and tried to tune back in to what Allura was saying. 

“-partner stunts with. Remember, we have to be memorable. Small but fierce. Partner stunts are going to give us that edge. Any questions?” 

Lance looked down the line of his teammates, hoping that someone had a question, but everyone else seemed to have been paying attention. He almost whispered to Hunk, but the thought of Keith overhearing stopped him. Everyone began to move, seemingly having been assigned partners, but Lance had no idea who his partner was. 

“Helllloooo!” Pidge called, waving her arms. She was clear across the gym. “Earth to Lance!” She called. “Are we gonna practice this stunt or are you gonna stand there and ogle?” 

“Oh! Right!” Lance said, relieved that Pidge was his partner. Now, he just had to figure out what it was they were supposed to be doing. 

“Remember, we’re starting out simple. I don’t care if you’ve done these lifts a hundred times before. We haven’t utilized them this season so we are going to work our way up,” Allura called. She was partnered with Shiro, standing in front of him. His strong hands were on her hips and hers on his wrists. 

Lance followed suit when Pidge stepped in front of him, placing his hands on her hips. As she put a strong grip on his wrists, he whispered into her ear. 

“Hey, uh, what are we doing?” 

Pidge groaned and let go of Lance’s wrists. 

“Keith!” Pidge called and Lance’s eyes went to Keith where he’d retreated to the bleachers with a few of the others. Lance recognized the line-up as their go to tumblers. 

“What!? Pidge come on!” Lance said in a whisper toned whine, but she smacked him, her eyes trained on Keith as he jogged over. 

“Lance wasn’t paying attention. Can you run him through it and be a spotter? I don’t want to fall on my face today,” Pidge said, elbowing Lance in the gut. 

“It’s easy,” Keith said, eyes on Lance as he tugged Pidge into position before him. It felt like Keith was patronizing him, but Lance couldn’t look away or snap at him, because Pidge was wrapping her hands around Keith’s wrists and beginning the stunt. They both bent at the knee, readying for a jump. “You just lift,” Keith said just before they straightened up. He grunted under Pidge’s weight, his instructions pausing. As she left his hands he continued, “release.” Pidge glided back down into his hands. “And receive.” 

“Pidge, you could have told me that!” Lance said defensively. 

“That’s just set-up, dummy,” Pidge said. 

“We’ll show you the whole thing so you know what you’re working towards,” Keith added. He and Pidge both bent at the knees, readying for the rest of the stunt. 

This time, when Keith released Pidge, she soared higher than before, giving him room to position his hands below Pidge. Her feet met Keith’s palms and Keith pushed up, locking his elbows in place and holding Pidge up high. Then, he popped her back down to the floor. 

“Got it?” Keith asked. 

Lance looked around the room, noticing others who were getting comfortable with the practice stage of the stunt and were moving on to the real lift. 

“I got it,” Lance said. “You can go now.” 

Keith’s eyebrows turned down but Lance didn’t look at him for long. He took Pidge by the waist and readied for the stunt. 

“Want to go all out?” Lance asked. 

He wanted to prove to Keith that he could do this, that he wasn’t bringing the team down, that he had paid attention, and that he was good

“Can you even lift me?” Pidge asked, sarcastically. 

“Betcha five bucks I nail this move on the first try,” Lance said, smirking at the back of her head and knowing she would hear it in his voice. 

“Betcha ten one of us is going to break something,” Pidge said back, but Lance could hear the smirk in her voice too. They had a bet. 

“Here goes,” Lance said, bending with Pidge at the knee. 

Luckily, Pidge was lighter than Lance had anticipated, giving her some extra air and giving him more time to position his hands below her feet. It felt like slow motion as he watched her heels hit his hands. 

But she was so much heavier on his wrists than she had been in his hands. He felt his elbow tremble and then before her full weight was even in his hands, it was slipping out. And Pidge was falling, fast, an elbow heading straight for his face. 

Searing pain sat like bricks on his nose, but he stayed standing, holding tight to any part of Pidge he could grasp. He felt a hand bunch in his practice shirt and heard Pidge’s feet slap lightly onto the floor. 

Lance held Pidge like a sack of potatoes, an arm hooked under one of her armpits, another grappling onto the back of her shirt. Keith had a hand on her too, catching her other arm by the elbow, his other hand helping to steady Lance, bunched in his shirt. 

Keith let go of Pidge first and she swung around to Lance. 

“Jesus, were you holding a lake? Your palms are so sweaty!” Pidge fired off. Lance knew there was more sass to come, but then she jumped back, her nose crinkling up. “Oh gross,” she said, pointing at his face. He lifted his fingers to his burning nose and they came back slick with blood. 

“Shit,” he said, quickly cupping his hands beneath his nose. 

“Shit,” Keith agreed, quickly holding out his own hands, as if to help him catch any extra drops of blood, but Lance shrugged him away and ran off in the direction of the locker rooms. 

“You owe me ten dollars if it’s broken!” Pidge called after him.

 

/ / 

 

“Oh, Lance.” 

The voice sent tremors through Lance’s body and he looked up in the mirror to see Shiro coming over to him. He looked worried, like a parent, as he stared down Lance’s blood crusted nose. 

The blood, although slowed, was trickling out of his right nostril. It had gushed for a long time, but the lack of forming bruises and the ebb of pain told him it wasn’t broken. He’d broken bones before, an arm in middle school, a few fingers in high school. He knew what broken bones felt like. He was just glad that he didn’t have to worry about his nose healing crooked. 

“Let me help you,” Shiro offered, grabbing a couple paper towels on his way over to Lance. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” Lance said, hoping that would be enough for Shiro to leave him be. He didn’t want to have to look at Shiro. Good Shiro. Honest Shiro. 

Shiro didn’t deserve to be caught up in Lance’s drama. But Lance had invited him in with a kiss. Shiro had declined, of course, by distancing himself. But then Lance brought him back in, by borrowing his boyfriend behind his back. He didn’t want to hurt Shiro. His stomach turned at the thought. 

Shiro pat the edge of the empty counter top beside the sinks. Lance shivered when Shiro’s hands met his hips and helped him bounce up onto it. Even after Shiro’s fingers had left Lance, he could feel them on him. 

Shiro took the wad of wet and bloody toilet paper that Lance had been holding to his nose and tossed it in the trash. Lance trained his eyes on the dirty paper where it’d landed at the top of the full trashcan. He didn’t look at Shiro as Shiro wiped away the fresh blood on his lips. 

With his fingers light near the base of Lance’s scull, Shiro gently led Lance into tipping his head back. Lance could taste the blood on the back of his tongue as it dripped down his throat. 

“You did really well with that lift,” Shiro said, breaking the silence and shocking Lance into making eye contact.

“I dropped Pidge,” Lance said and Shiro laughed. 

“But you caught her. It was her feet that hit the floor, wasn’t it?” Shiro asked. 

Lance winced as Shiro rubbed a rough chunk of blood that’d dried to his skin. 

“The first time I tried partner lifts,” Shiro began, “I dropped my flyer. Hard.” 

“No you didn’t,” Lance sighed. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“I never even got her into my hands. I got a knee to the mouth and she fell on her face, chipped a tooth,” Shiro said. He pressed his fingers on Lance’s nose, checking for sore spots as he spoke. 

“Really? But, you’re good at everything,” Lance said. 

Shiro’s fingers paused on Lance’s face, as if the comment had caught him off guard. Slowly, his thumb began to sweep over Lance’s cheek. 

“I’m not good at everything,” Shiro said with a smile. “I work hard for what I want. I make mistakes, but I move past them and learn from them.” 

Lance couldn’t help but feel like Shiro was talking about him. In his ears, it sounded like Shiro was saying ‘I made a mistake with you and I won’t do it again.’ 

But the way his fingers brushed gently across Lance’s hot skin said something else. 

“You’re handsome,” Shiro said, and the shock of that nearly struck Lance dead. He jerked out of Shiro’s grip and could feel his blush heating up his face. Shiro looked sheepish, but not overly embarrassed or appalled. 

“What?!” Lance asked, and in that question he was asking so many things. Like, ‘Why did you say that?’ and ‘I don’t understand the joke,’ and ‘What about Keith?” 

“What?” Shiro said with a chuckle, not taking his eyes off Lance. “You act like no one’s told you that before.” 

Lance looked down at his lap, suddenly interested in his well-manicured nails. He could feel how red his face was, the heat radiating out toward Shiro.

From the look of embarrassment and resigned sadness on his face, Shiro realized that maybe nobody ever had. 

“No one’s ever told you that before?” Shiro asked in disbelief. 

“Who do you think would have ever told me that?” Lance said with a self-deprecating laugh. 

“Anyone who has ever seen you,” Shiro said, putting a finger under Lance’s chin to tilt his face back up. He looked into Lance’s eyes, but Lance’s eyes were cast to the side. “People may not have told you so, but it’s not because you’re not good looking,” Shiro said, seriously. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Stop,” Lance said, shaking his head. 

“Stop what?” Shiro asked, not backing away. 

“Stop being nice. I don’t deserve it,” Lance said, his voice close to a whisper. 

Shiro leaned forward, kissing Lance softly on the forehead. It lasted only a second before Shiro was pulling away again. 

“You do deserve it. You deserve every compliment and every kindness that the world has to offer,” Shiro said, his voice matching Lance’s quiet tone. He kissed him again, this time on the cheek. “You’re good. You’re handsome. And you deserve good things, Lance.” 

Lance’s eyes had fallen closed, but he could feel Shiro’s lips where they spoke just a centimeter away from his own. He could feel Shiro’s cool, minty breath. 

Lance’s tongue darted out to lick his own lips, tasting the salt and blood that had been left behind. Bad. He didn’t taste like mint. He tasted like blood. He pulled back, away from Shiro, covering his mouth with a bloody hand. 

He felt his stomach swoop. He could still remember what Keith had tasted like, pepper and spiced tea. They both tasted like good things and he tasted like blood. He couldn’t help but laugh coldly into his hand. He was going to ruin them. 

Just then, the doors to the locker room opened again, a flood of cheerleaders coming in. Shiro stepped away and Lance hopped off the counter. Without looking back at Shiro, Lance grabbed his bag and left for class. 

 

/ / 

 

Shiro sat in a sunny patch on the quad. He had a long break in classes and had texted Keith to meet him for lunch before they both had to get back to work and class. He unwrapped the foil on a deli sandwich and began chewing before Keith got there, too hungry to wait. 

“Hey,” Keith said, sneaking up behind Shiro. 

Shiro didn’t jump. Instead, he turned with a smile. 

“Hey, baby” Shiro said back. “How’s your day been?” 

Keith sat beside him, pulling a take-out box of sushi from his bag. He used his fingers to shove a piece in his mouth before answering. 

“Good, yours?” Keith asked with a full mouth. Shiro just nodded and smiled as an answer. He took another bite of his sandwich, so Keith continued, stomach flittering with excitement to share with Shiro. “Soooooooo, I talked to Lance.” 

Shiro paused, mid bite. 

“Oh?” he asked around his food. “And?” 

“We uh, made out,” Keith said. He quickly popped another sushi roll into his mouth, suddenly feeling nervous. 

“Oh,” Shiro said, nodding and chewing. 

“Is that okay?” Keith asked, again with a mouth full of food. 

“Yeah,” Shiro said, nodding. He continued chewing and swallowing before adding on. “I’m actually kind of jealous.” 

“Do you want to end this?” Keith asked seriously. “It’ll be best to end it before it starts if you do.” 

But Shiro was smiling and he nudged Keith’s arm playfully. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Shiro joked. “I’m jealous that you kissed him again and I didn’t.”

“It was, really nice,” Keith said.

“I almost kissed him when we were in the locker room this morning,” Shiro said. “But then everyone started coming in after practice and he ran off. Did he say anything when you guys talked? About everything? About us?” Shiro asked curiously. 

“No,” Keith admitted, “but we didn’t really do a lot of talking.” 

At that Keith blushed and looked back down to his food. 

“But he said he was going to meet us at your place tonight?” Shiro asked and   
Keith nodded. “I just can’t wait until we’re all on the same page,” he said with a hopeful smile. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance wandered to out of his first class, ready to kill time before his second class. He made a path toward his dorm, rounding the corner of the building only to be face to face with a group of baseball players. 

Lotor was leading the pack. He snarled out a smile when he saw Lance, all sharp teeth and sinister amusement. But before he had a chance to notify the rest of his team of the arrival, Lance turned about-face, curving back around the building. 

‘Why are they here? Why now?’ Lance thought to himself. 

He barely registered that he was walking faster than usual, just trying to put distance between them. 

Lotor was turning up too often. It made Lance’s already unsteady hands feel even shakier. 

He cut through an alley between two shops and realized that he was making his way toward the park. It wasn’t a school owned area, but it was big enough and far enough from the dorms to make him feel like he wasn’t under surveillance. 

He cut off the paved and winding path that the park offered. He felt safer where Lotor and his crew were less likely to follow. He shrugged around a few bushes and moved into the trees. He wandered farther until he came to an opening in the trees. 

The trees, tall and full, offered a bare circle in the park. Their branches reached out to each other, making a canopy of lush, green oak leaves that the sunlight filtered through in green rays. 

It felt unreal, like the universe had led him to this spot, like it knew he needed somewhere beautiful to be alone and safe. It was like someone out there knew he needed a sanctuary and had led him to it. 

He laid down in the center of the clearing, marveling at the green light on his skin. 

He didn’t go to his second class. 

Or his third.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance disassociates

Hunk and Shay sat alone at lunch. There were always plenty of open tables and bare chairs, so finding who you were supposed to be meeting was never hard. But they were alone, and they weren’t supposed to be. 

Lance was usually with them. 

Not only that, but Lance hadn’t called or texted, or even left a note that he wouldn’t be there. And he wouldn’t have forgotten. He and Hunk had been eating lunch together for the past two years, more if you counted high school and middle school. Hunk kept his eyes on the doors, scanning the groups that came in and out of the cafeteria, hoping that Lance was just late. 

Shay left before Lance got there. Hunk hung back just in case Lance came through the entrance late. Very late. But Lance never showed, and Hunk couldn’t miss his next class. 

Hunk left, slowly, feeling kind of lost. He sent a text to Lance, asking where he was and if he was okay, but got no response. He even stopped by their room to check if he’d slept through lunch. But he wasn’t there. His bed was more rumpled than it usually was, but the blankets were still too neat to have been slept in. 

Hunk went to class, worry on his mind. Where was his best friend?

 

/ / 

 

“Did you get flowers?” Keith asked, stopping in the doorway of his apartment. 

There, in the kitchen, was a small banquette of, obviously, hand picked flowers. Roots and dirt were still hanging off the bottoms of the stems where they laid on the counter. 

“Uh, yeah,” Shiro said, his cheeks turning pink. “This place is kind of a dump. I thought it would brighten it up a little.” 

“”You’re trying to be romantic,” Keith accused, a sly smile on his face. He kissed Shiro before Shiro could rebuke and then retreated to the kitchenette for something that might resemble a vase. He came back with the tallest drinking glass he owned and hoped the weight of the flowers wouldn’t tip it over. He filled it halfway with water before handing it over to Shiro. 

“I just thought Lance would get a kick out of it,” Shiro said. 

“We probably should have met at your place,” Keith said. “This place really is a mess. There isn’t even a place for us to sit down. . . besides the bed.” 

Their eyes both drifted over to Keith’s floor bound mattress. 

“When was the last time you washed your sheets?” Shiro asked, eyebrow arching. They were still covered in charcoal and paint. He doubted they’d seen a washing machine since the last time he’d forced Keith to wash them. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith mumbled. 

“Keith,” Shiro scolded in a low groan. He’d grown accustom to Keith’s lackadaisical laundry habits, but he had a feeling that Lance, who always smelled faintly of laundry detergent, wouldn’t be so forgiving. 

“It’s fine. We won’t invite him into bed. Whatever,” Keith shrugged. 

There was a lull in conversation as Shiro went back to the books that he’d laid out on Keith’s small kitchen counter. He bowed his head over his studies, trying to get as much work done as he could before Lance got to Keith’s apartment. 

“Have you thought any more about school?” Shiro asked finally, turning on his stool to look at Keith. 

Keith was reclined on the bed, a sketchbook resting on his bent legs. But his eyes were closed, the blank page abandoned by his creativity. He didn’t open his eyes when Shiro spoke. Instead, he threw his arm over his eyes and shook his head. 

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. I don’t want to be mad when Lance gets here,” Keith sighed. 

“You don’t have to get mad,” Shiro said softly, trying to be gentle with the sore subject.  
“Shiro, drop it, okay? I’m just not ready to think about it right now, okay?” Keith said.

Shiro nodded and checked his watch. 

“What time did you tell Lance to be here, anyway?” Shiro asked. 

Keith didn’t answer. He turned on his side, facing away from Shiro. 

“Keith?” Shiro asked, again. 

“I, uh, didn’t,” Keith finally answered. “I just told him to come over after classes or whatever.” 

“Keith,” Shiro sighed.

“He distracted me,” Keith mumbled. 

For a few minutes they were silent, knowing exactly what it was that had kept Keith distracted. Shiro turned back to his books, and Keith back to his sketchbook, but they could only think of kissing Lance. 

“You should call him,” Keith finally said, sitting up in bed and looking over to Shiro. 

“Okay, give me your phone, mines in the car,” Shiro said, holding his hand out. Keith scooted up, reaching into his back pocket for his junk cell phone. He tossed it over to Shiro who found Lance quickly in the contacts. 

They both waited, hearing the loud ring-back that Lance’s phone screeched out. But Shiro shrugged and shook his head when there was no answer. 

“Maybe he’s on his way,” Keith shrugged. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance wasn’t five feet out of the park entrance when Keith’s call came in. Keith’s name lighting up on Lance’s phone made him feel weak. He could feel nervous sweat building on his skin. Seeing Keith was too risky. But not seeing him, that was hard too. And Shiro. What did Shiro even want? Did he want Lance to call? Did he want to see Lance again the way Keith did? 

All of these questions had come right back to him the minute he’d left his tiny oasis. He sighed at the darkening sky, wishing for more sunlight so he could stay in his sunny patch of the park. 

Instead, the sun continued to sink below the horizon. 

Luckily, when he got back to the dorms, there was no entourage waiting outside. He jogged up the stairs, not wanting to get caught in the elevator with any undesirables. His hand paused on the door handle of his room. His and Hunk’s room. 

He’d totally left Hunk hanging. He ignored his calls and text because he couldn’t bear to get into that conversation with him. He just needed some time off. The anxiety of seeing Hunk after he’d purposefully gone missing was nearly unbearable. 

His fingers slipped from the handle, but it twisted anyway. Shay stood in the doorway with a shocked expression, obviously not expecting anyone to be on the other side of the door. 

“Oh! Lance,” she said. But once the name was out of her mouth, Hunk was right behind her, and she had no time to ask if Lance was okay or where he’d been. Instead, she was nearly pushed aside as Hunk rushed to get a good look at his best friend. 

“Lance! What happened? Are you okay?” Hunk asked, tugging Lance into a rib-crushing hug. 

“I’ll see you later, Hunk,” Shay said, a small smile on her lips as she quietly slipped out of the door. 

“I’m fine,” Lance said but he couldn’t bring himself to return Hunk’s warm hug. 

“Fine? You disappeared. I was worried about you. Where were you?” Hunk asked, pulling away from Lance and letting him into the room. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to worry,” Lance sighed. “I just needed some time, you know?” 

“Not really,” Hunk said. He watched Lance closely as Lance went on as if he hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth for a good part of the day.

“I just needed some space from everything. I wasn’t even far. I just went for a walk. I spent the day in the park,” Lance shrugged as he pulled off his shirt and reached for a clean towel. He tried out a fake smile before turning back to Hunk. “I’m really fine, dude. Sorry I was such a pain in the ass,” Lance said with a laugh. “I just kinda got lost out there, thinking and stuff. Dangerous, I know.” 

Hunk was still looking at him with worried eyes. Lance held up his towel. 

“Gonna go shower. Really, I’m okay. I’m good,” Lance said, trying to assure his friend. He turned for the door again, but Hunk caught him by the elbow. 

“You know you can talk to me, right? I know I’ve been preoccupied, with Shay and Cheer and school stuff, but I’m always here for you. I can be around more,” Hunk said. His seriousness and readiness to give up things for Lance nearly broke Lance’s heart. 

“Hunk, buddy. I want you to do your thing. I just had to do my own thing today. I should have texted to let you know I was alive, but really. I swear. I’m good. Nothing to talk about.” 

Hunk nodded and let go of Lance’s arm, somewhat reluctantly. 

“You’re sure?” He asked and Lance laughed. 

“You must be hungry, Hunk. You feeling woozy? Forgetful?” Lance joked, putting his palm to Hunk’s forehead. “You’re making me repeat myself.”

Hunk knocked Lance’s hand away from his forehead, finally cracking a smile. 

“Fine, go. You smell rank.” 

Lance thought he was free, squeezing out of the door, until Hunk’s voice called down the hall at him. 

“Oh! Lance!” He called, prompting Lance to stop and turn back toward their door. “I’m not going to be at practice tomorrow,” Hunk said. “Can you tell Allura I have a guidance meeting? 

“Oh, yeah, sure. Everything alright?” Lance knew he could get wrapped up in his own drama but he didn’t want that to distract him from his relationships. He didn’t want to miss things. He didn’t want to ignore his best friend, especially if Hunk needed him. He took a few steps back, closing the distance he’d put between them.

“Yeah,” Hunk said with a smile. “I have some paperwork stuff. It’s no big deal. But you’ll tell Allura and Shiro, right? You won’t forget?” 

“Hunk, buddy, I couldn’t ever forget you,” Lance said with a cheesy grin. 

But at the mention of Shiro’s name, Lance’s palms had gone clammy. The thought of seeing Shiro and Keith tomorrow in practice was torturous. He knew Keith would be irate that Lance had blown him off, and he didn’t want to be in the crossfires of Keith’s rage, let alone the main target. 

The more he thought about it, the less appealing practice sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is such a short chapter! I just wanted to get something up before i go on hiatus. Yeah, a hiatus, sorry about that too! 
> 
> I have a few life things I have to sort out but I AM COMING BACK TO THIS STORY!  
> I still love Go Lions and I want to see it through! Unfortunately, I do have some decisions I have to make for my future (yikes, amiright?) and I need to set Go Lions aside for a little bit so that I don't half ass it (like i have been doing the past like, two chapters, my bad.) 
> 
> BUT when I do update, I'll let you know in advance on my tumblr ( courtneylej.tumblr.com ) if you follow me there! Also, I don't expect this hiatus to last much longer than a month, two months at the VERY most.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with this story (and me!) I'll be seeing you all soon!!


	14. Some Changes and Clarifications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little info on my hiatus and the rest of this story!!   
> All the important stuff is in CAPS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll delete this chapter/update in like a month or so, so it doesn't mess with the flow for people reading from the beginning!

FIRST, I WANT TO SAY THANKS SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE WHO IS FOLLOWING THIS STORY. IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME! SORRY I’VE BEEN GONE FOR AN EON!   
That being said, 

I’M BACK AND I MADE SOME CHANGES.

Just some typos stuff but also I CHANGED SCOTT/SENDAK to LOTOR.

Ik, ik, i changed who tf this person is supposed to be a million times. But i didn’t plan on him being an important plot point until he was, so i tried to morph him into Sendak but it made me cringe every time. So i bit the bullet and changed him into Lotor all the way from the beginning. So, when you see him pop up, that’s who that is. Sorry but also not sorry, because it makes the story better imo 

ALSO.   
I am going to try to update every other week again. I already have two chapters edited and ready to go. I’M POSTING A REAL CHAPTER TOMORROW.   
I think there are going to be 5-8 MORE CHAPTERS, but i’m not really sure yet. 

And one last thing. 

IF I MAKE THIS INTO A ZINE, WOULD YOU BE INTERESTED IN SEEING/BUYING IT?   
I’m not sure if it will be a printed zine or just a pay what you want PDF file, but I really want to make a zine with some of my favorite chapters along with some illustrations that I’ve been working on. So, let me know what everyone thinks of that.

And again, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT. YOU GUYS HAVE ALL BEEN SO SWEET AND UNDERSTANDING AND AWESOME!


	15. Chapter 15

Lance wasn’t on his way to Keith’s. 

The fact was, Shiro and Keith had given up on him showing up at all. It was dark out, almost midnight. Shiro was leaning on the kitchen sink, eating cold Chinese food out of the carton. He picked at the wilted vegetables in the lo-mien for longer than he usually would before tossing the whole container in the garbage. 

Keith had given up before Shiro and found solace on his bed, eyes closed but unable to sleep. The rejection stung. He laid back, arms crossed beneath his head, and tried to breathe evenly, hoping Shiro would think he was asleep. But he listened to Shiro, still shuffling around the kitchen, mapping his movement.

Shiro didn’t bother packing up his books, leaving them strewn on the table for the night. He even left a pair of dirty chopsticks on the table, which was, undoubtedly, a sign that he was tense from the night’s events, or lack there of. The only thing he cleared off the table was the tall drinking glass filled with wildflowers. 

He dumped them in the trash before putting the glass in the sink. 

The mattress, although on the floor, dipped when Shiro sat down, disrupting Keith’s even breathing. Shiro’s head nudged Keith’s arms lightly, warning him that he was going to use them as a pillow too. He lay on his side, cozied up to Keith, and began to idly draw stars with his fingers over Keith’s chest. 

They curled together on the wayward mattress, not sleeping, and not saying anything. They didn’t have to say anything. The sting of being stood up permeated the whole apartment building. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance was moping. He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly and overthinking. He hadn’t gone to cheer, incapable of facing Keith after standing him up, not wanting to look at Shiro’s sweet smile. His smile seemed different, know that Lance knew Shiro's boyfriend wanted to cheat on him, and that Shiro would cheat on his boyfriend. 

The overthinking was crushing Lance, but he couldn’t knock himself out of it. He couldn’t even make it to his classes because he wasn’t present enough to learn. 

So, when Hunk left for his meeting that morning, Lance left for cheer, only he didn’t turn toward the old gym. He turned away from campus and back toward his little oasis in the park. It was only after his lunch hour that he’d returned to the dorm to make easy mac and then crashed on his bed.

The sound of the door being unlocked, knocked him out of his thoughts, if only temporarily. He quickly sat up, pulling his phone out and trying to look busy before Hunk walked in. He didn’t want to be caught in one of his episodes. Especially not by Hunk, who was already worried. 

“Lance! Hey, check this out,” Hunk said as he walked in, waving a few pieces of stapled paper at Lance. 

Lance dropped his phone on the bed, snatching the papers from Hunk’s hand. 

“What’s this, buddy?” Lance asked, noticing Hunk’s neat signature at the bottom of the page. 

“I switched majors. It’s official now. It’s in the systems and everything. Your best friend is going to be a chef,” Hunk boasted. 

“WOAH! Hunk, buddy! Good for you! Does this mean I get all the snacks you bring back from class?”

Lance’s smile was as wide as his face, but he couldn’t help but think that he was a shit friend. He didn’t even know Hunk was thinking of switching majors, didn’t know that his best friend wanted to change his path in life. Hell, he couldn’t really even remember the last time he’d even seen Hunk cook. Everything was getting away from him. 

“Who says I’m gonna share?” Hunk joked.

Lance flipped the stapled papers, wondering what was beneath the single piece of paperwork that Hunk had signed. And below it, was a terrifying and thrilling answer to his problems. 

But before he could act on it, Hunk was snatching the papers back from Lance. He filed them away neatly in a folder that he kept in his desk drawer before turning back to Lance. 

“And what makes you think culinary majors bring home food anyway?” Hunk said, his eyes squinting. He had a big smile on his face still and Lance laughed before shrugging and picking his phone back up. Lance worked to keep the smile on his face.

“Hey, man, all I know is I better be getting some tasty treats if you’re gonna ditch me in math.” 

 

/ / 

 

“Hey, Hunk,” Shiro said, patting Hunk on the back. All around them, cheerleaders’ shoes were squeaking on the gym floor as they stretched for warm-ups. “Where were you yesterday?” 

Hunk sighed, his shoulders dropping. 

“Lance,” Hunk groaned. 

“Lance?” Shiro asked, his frame going a little rigid at the thought of the happy-go lucky boy. He could feel his cheeks tinting with embarrassment and let his hand slip from Hunk’s shoulder. 

Luckily, Hunk didn’t seem to notice the tension. 

“He was supposed to tell you and Allura that I had a guidance meeting yesterday at practice,” Hunk explained, shaking his head. “He can be such an airhead sometimes.” 

“Hunk, Lance wasn’t at practice yesterday,” Shiro said, his eyebrows scrunching together with concern. 

“What?” Hunk asked, mirroring Shiro’s worry. Shiro shook his head. “But we left at the same time. He was headed here,” Hunk tried to explain. 

“Well, he must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere,” Shiro said. He’d meant it to be lighthearted, but he couldn’t force a smile. 

Hunk turned around, scanning the area for Lance, only to find that he wasn’t anywhere in sight. He looked around once more, but again, nothing. When he was satisfied the gym was empty of Lance, he turned back to Shiro. 

“He said he’d meet me here,” Hunk said, hurt in his voice. 

“Is he . . .” Shiro paused, a hand raising to rub at his neck nervously, “avoiding cheer?” Shiro decided on. 

He would have much rather asked ‘Is he avoiding me?’ but it seemed inappropriate. 

“No, he loves cheer. He loves the team. I don’t know why he’s skipping,” Hunk let the words slip out before realizing he should probably be covering for Lance. 

Lance would come back, he always did. But he didn’t need to come back to questions and accusations. Hunk knew how people saw Lance when he went through his episodes, lazy and undisciplined. He took a deep breath and shook his head lightly, his hair falling out of his headband and into his face.

“He’s probably sick,” Hunk lied, a half smile on his face. “He was sleeping yesterday whenever I was in the room. Maybe he caught something.” 

Shiro nodded, but didn’t buy the excuse. He didn’t bother calling hunk out on it though. It wasn’t his place. He had no claim over Lance. And if Lance needed time because Shiro and Keith had put him in an uncomfortable position, he was allowed that. 

 

/ / 

 

Lance’s heart beat a million miles a minute as he thumbed through Hunk’s papers. He was being melodramatic, the shades drawn over the dorm room windows, every light off, using his phone’s flashlight to lead his way through Hunk’s paperwork, as if this was some sort of Watergate operation. 

It wasn’t that Hunk would be mad if he saw Lance looking through his stuff, he wasn’t hiding anything. It was just that Lance didn’t want Hunk to know what Lance was looking for. 

And then, there it was. Hunk’s pretty signature was illuminated by the spotlight of Lance’s phone, confirming that he had switched majors. And, stapled to the back of that page, was the single slip of paper that Lance was looking for. 

In big, bold letters, was Lance’s solution.

‘Withdraw from Voltron University.’

His stomach turned at the thought of leaving. He didn’t know what he would tell his parents, or Hunk, or Allura and the team. But the thought of escaping the situation he’d put himself in, between Keith and Shiro. . . . he felt like he could breathe for the first time in weeks. 

He tore the paper away from Hunk’s as cleanly as possible before tucking his escape into his own desk drawer. 

 

/ / 

 

“Hey,” Hunk said, sitting down on the bed beside Lance. Lance could feel the bed dip, but didn’t turn toward his friend. “What’s going on, man?” Hunk asked, putting a heavy, warm hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

“Nothing,” Lance answered quietly. “I’m just sleepy.” 

“Too sleepy to go to practice?” Hunk asked. “Two days in a row? Again?” 

“Yes, Hunk, too sleepy to go to practice two days in a row. Again,” Lance answered heavily. 

“You gonna go tomorrow?” Hunk asked. 

“No,” Lance answered. 

“Come on, Lance,” Hunk said, and Lance could hear the frustration, verging on anger, in his friend’s voice. “You can’t stay in bed forever. Everyone’s asking about you. Shiro’s worried, I can tell by the way he looks at me in practice. Pidge has a new prank that you’ll want in on. Allura needs you on the team. Even Keith asked about you,” Hunk said. “They’re your friends. You don’t have to hide from them.” 

“Keith?” Lance asked, unmoving. “Keith asked about me?” 

“Yeah,” Hunk said with a tired laugh. “How crazy is that? You know you’re missed when Keith asks about you.” 

A silence stretched between them, Hunk waiting for Lance to respond and Lance waiting. Just. Waiting. 

“I think, I’m just gonna nap for a little bit longer,” Lance finally said, ducking his face back into his pillow. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that Keith still liked him, or at least liked him enough to ask after him. 

“Okay,” Hunk said, his voice a near whisper. 

 

/ / 

 

“Shiro! I’m glad I caught you,” Allura said, sliding her arm into the crook of Shiro’s elbow. He’d been walking to class when he heard her calling after him.

“Hey, what’s up?” Shiro asked, smiling down at her, happy to escort her to her next class. 

“So, you know we have to cut Lance, right?” Allura asked. She looked apologetic. She even sounded sad, which surprised Shiro more than her comment had. Allura rarely felt sorry for those who dared to miss her practices and meetings. 

Shiro sighed heavily, looking away from Allura. He couldn’t possibly tell her that he suspected it was his fault that Lance wasn’t showing up. At least, he couldn’t give her the details. It wasn’t right to Lance. He deserved his privacy. 

It also wouldn’t go over well with Allura that he was mixing cheer with pleasure. Again. She’d nearly had a conniption when he told her that he and Keith had started seeing each other.

“Not yet,” he finally said, eyes finding Allura’s again. 

“I knew it,” she said, giving him a little shove. “You have something to do with this, don’t you?” She suspected, a scandalized look on her face. 

“I’m not sure,” Shiro answered. “But, it’s possible.” 

“I told you that your relationships can’t get in the way of my team,” Allura said, her expression moving from playful-gossip, to stern-coach in a blink of an eye. 

“Just, let me talk to him,” Shiro said. 

“Fine. But do it fast. Pidge can’t practice their lift if Lance isn’t there. I’m already going to pull her out of practice so we can shop for the bake sale so she doesn’t have to sit out. But I don’t want our best flyer to end up benched for a competition.” 

“I understand,” Shiro said, patting her hand as they approached her class. “I’ll talk to him. I’m actually headed there now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much for sticking with me through my long hiatus! It means a lot!! 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Also, sorry if the timeline in this chapter was kind of jumpy? It felt jumpy to me but i didn't know how to fix it without adding a ton of useless filler lol


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, everyone! Here's another chapter! I'm going to thank everyone again for reading this and sticking with me lol. Also, I know i'm awful at responding to comments! But I read them all and appreciate them all!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I think I am going to make this into a zine (i.e. I've done lineart for like 3 zine pieces already lol), so if you're interested and want updates on that you can follow my tumblr ( courtneylej.tumblr.com ) 
> 
>  
> 
> and again, thanks.

“What’s up, Pipsqueak?” Keith asked, noticing that Pidge was waiting behind the cheer gym, one foot on the sidewalk, another on the pavement of the almost empty parking lot. “Waiting for someone?” 

“Nah,” Pidge shrugged, turning to face Keith. 

He was strapping on his cherry red helmet and for the first time, she noticed the cat ears that adorned the top of it. 

“I’m trying to decide what way is fastest to Allura’s place. We’re going grocery shopping,” Pidge sighed. 

Pidge made a show of doing sarcastic spirit fingers for the chore and Keith laughed. 

“I can take you,” Keith said, nodding toward his bike and the extra helmet that he almost always had hooked to his handlebars. 

“Mind if we stop by the dorms first? I wanna drop of my books.” She asked, her thumb cocked toward the backpack she was wearing. She didn’t wait for Keith’s answer, already moving to follow him toward the bike.

“Sure, Come on.” 

 

// 

 

Shiro tried to swallow down the dry lump in his throat, but it wasn’t going anywhere. What did you say to someone who stood you up? Was it okay to ask why? Should he just ignore it? 

He had come here on Allura’s orders, so did that make this strictly professional? Co-captain to teammate? Did that power dynamic make him some kind of aggressor if he brought up the fact that they were supposed to be together? Obviously Lance didn’t think they were meant to be together, so saying anything was almost surely out of the question. 

Shiro knocked unsteadily at the door. He wouldn’t say anything. He would just tell Lance that he needed to come to practice and that everything would be just like it always was. Nothing to worry about. 

It sounded easier than it was going to be, that much Shiro knew for sure.

Hunk answered the door, cracking it open just wide enough to show his face.

“Oh, hey, Shiro. What’s up? Is something wrong? Did we miss a meeting?” Hunk asked, beginning his signature babbling. That, at least, put Shiro more at ease. 

“Actually, I’m here to talk to Lance,” Shiro interrupted. “He around?” 

Hunk peaked back into the room. Lance was stretched out in bed, lying on his stomach, eyes trained on the TV at the foot of his bed. His arms were outstretched, reaching beyond the mattress, xbox remote in his hands. He lazily tapped at buttons. 

Hunk had woken up a few times the night before to see Lance, still awake, his GTA character wandering aimlessly. Hunk doubted that Lance even registered the objective of his mission. More likely, Lance had picked up the remote to pass the time and gotten sucked into the time-suck that was video games. 

“I don’t know,” Hunk said, turning back to Shiro. “He’s kind of out of it.” 

“Out of it?” Shiro asked, mimicking Hunk’s low, hushed tone. 

“Yeah, he gets like this sometimes,” Hunk answered, though Shiro thought there was hesitation in Hunk’s statement. 

“Can you just ask him if we can talk?” Shiro asked. “It’ll be quick.” 

Hunk nodded, turning back into the room. 

“Lance?” He asked, voice returning to its normal volume. Shiro was waiting to hear Lance’s voice, eager, upbeat, but both he and Hunk were greeted with silence. 

“Lance?” Hunk asked again, this time louder. 

“Huh?” Lance asked. 

Hunk could see the shift in Lance’s reality. He tensed up, his eyebrows shifting down, as if he were really interested in his game. His character took up running a straight path instead of the slow, aimless wandering. “Sorry, man, what’s up?” He asked, eyes still trained on the screen.

“You mind if Shiro comes in?” 

 

/ / 

 

“Hey, Pidge?” Keith asked, putting his foot down to balance his bike near the curb. “That's Lances dorm. Right?”

Pidge looked over to the building beside hers as she unbuckled her helmet. 

“Mhm,” she hummed in a non-committal tone. 

“And those guys out front,” Keith nodded toward the entrance of the dorm. There, stood a group of guys, all athletically built, all wearing baseball hats. “They live there too?” Keith asked. 

He knew the answer, but he had to be sure. 

“I see them outside a lot, but they never go in. Probably just waiting for someone,” Pidge answered. She didn’t notice Keith’s dark look, or the serious tone that his questions held.

"They are," Keith said under his breath. 

"Huh?" Pidge asked, but Keith brushed off her question. 

"I’ll meet you back here in five?" he asked and she nodded, swinging a leg over Keith's bike. 

He watched as she got safely into her dorm, but he was waiting less for her safety and more so she wouldn’t catch him strolling over toward the twin dorm building.

Keith cut the engine on his bike. With a click of his kickstand, he was on his way over, his hands pushed deep into his jacket pockets.

The boys stood like a gang, all wearing their dark baseball hats, smirking and leering at anyone who passed. Their leader stood tall and haughty as ever, his long blond hair tied up in a slick ponytail, his eyes cruel and cold.

"Lotor," Keith greeted as he approached. 

Lotor looked over with disdain at the familiar voice. They hadn't left on the best foot. In fact, they'd left with bloody noses and death threats. 

"Kogane," Lotor snarled back. 

"I didn't know you were back in the dorms," Keith said, an accusation. 

"Didn't know you were either. How'd ya scrape up the cash?" 

Lotor’s question was condescending and made Keith’s blood boil. 

Lotor had everything handed to him since birth. Rich dad, rich family, rich everything. And in typical Rich-Boy fashion, Lotor made sure everyone knew it. In Lotor’s mind, money made the man and the more money you had, the better you were. It infuriated Keith, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he pushed it away. 

"We both know I don't live here," Keith said. "And we both know you don't live here. So, what's up? Cutting breaks again?" 

It was an accusation of an event that had never been truly pinned on Lotor. The school board refused to condemn Lotor when his father was such a grand donor to the school. Therefore, the dean of discipline ruled that there was insufficient evidence. Apparently, daddy’s money and notoriety could sweep attempted murder under the rug. Go figure.

Lotor opened his mouth to defend himself but Keith spoke over him. 

"But that doesn’t make any sense. Lance doesn't have a car."

Lotor scowled, pissed that Keith knew their tricks, even more pissed that he knew their target. 

"We're going to teach that little bitch a lesson. What are you going to do about it?" Lotor asked, growing tired of Keith. 

"What lesson does he need to be taught?" Keith asked. "What do you really have to prove to him? You didn't like him and he didn't like you. Just cut your losses." 

Lotor’s expression changed, a sharp eyebrow quirking high up on his face, and a smirk twisting up to match it. It made Keith uneasy, like he’d said something that would give Lotor the upper hand, but he hadn’t, because there was no upper hand to have. Keith was right. And Lotor was wrong. 

"Oh I get it,” Lotor said, his voice like velvet, yet somehow still grating on every nerve Keith had. “You're porking that loser," Lotor accused.

Keith could feel his face get hot, but forced down the embarrassment. He tried his hardest to ignore the comment, but it bit at his conscience like fire. Was he just standing up to Lotor because he had a thing for Lance? Was it wrong to put himself in the middle of it all?

No. That was crazy. Lance was his friend. And friends stand up for their friends when they’re getting targeted and stalked.

"I just don't want to see anyone get hurt. Lance is a good guy. He doesn't deserve your shit,” Keith said sharply. He could hear his own voice in his ears, annoyed and angry. He cursed himself giving Lotor the satisfaction of his aggravation. 

"Go home, Kogane. We'll make sure that your good boy gets special treatment,” Lotor sneered. He was joined by a chorus of laughter from his teammates. 

"Leave him alone, Lotor. Unless you want to get your ass kicked again," Keith snarled back. 

"You wouldn't. Another red-card and you get kicked out. We all know you have a record."

And now, Keith realized, an evil grin stretching over his face, he had taken back the upper hand. 

"Haven't you heard?” Keith said, his voice a condescending kick to Lotor’s ego. “My funds ran out. This is my last semester. I don't give a single fuck if they kick me out early." 

This, made Lotor go cold. 

Keith Kogane in a no-holds-barred fight? Lotor had barely made it through a fight with Keith when Shiro had stepped in to stop him. And Shiro had only stopped him because fighting was a strict violation of the VU code of conduct. 

"So lay off," Keith said, finality in his tone. He turned to make his way back to his bike and didn’t look back until he’d slid a leg back over the leather seat. 

When he looked back, most of the boys had dispersed, but Lotor was still loitering, glaring angrily after Keith. 

 

//

 

Lance dropped his remote then bolted up in bed. He ran his hands through his hair a few times while talking, his eyes wide and wild. 

“He- Shiro’s here? Now!?” Lance asked and Hunk nodded. 

“Uh, yeah, um, okay. Yeah sure, let him in,” Lance said. He lunged for a shirt that was draped over his headboard and struggled to put it on as Hunk stepped aside for Shiro. 

“Alright,” Hunk said, suspicion clear in his voice. He looked from Lance to Shiro then picked up his backpack and stepped into his shoes. “I’ll be at the library.” 

“Shiro,” Lance said, not acknowledging Hunk’s sudden disappearance. “What’s up?” 

“Hey,” Shiro said. He had his hands in his pockets and rocked gently on the balls of his feet. Lance realized that, Shiro, his hero, his crush, one part of the bane of his existence, was nervous. “Uh, can we talk?” 

The phrase was antiquated and gut wrenching. Lance’s shoulders slumped and he scooted over on his bed, not so much to make room for Shiro but instead to invite him to sit. 

“You’re not sick,” Shiro said. It wasn’t a question or an accusation. He was just stating that even though the team had suspected Lance was ill, he wasn’t. Lance shook his head. He looked down at his hands, guiltily. “And, you’re not going to practice.” 

Again, Lance shook his head. 

“So, what’s up?” 

“I . . . I can’t tell you,” Lance began. He looked up at Shiro, but had to look away again. 

“Lance, you can tell me anything,” Shiro said. He put a hand on Lance’s shoulder, but Lance shrugged it off. 

‘Don’t overstep your boundries, Shirogane,’ Shiro thought, silently berating himself. 

Lance reached for his desk and pulled a sheet of paper out of the top drawer. 

“Here,” Lance said. 

Shiro took the paper when Lance handed it to him. He skimmed it twice before the meaning of it sunk in. 

“You’re dropping out?” Shiro asked. He stared hard at the paper, like it was a death sentence, his eyes sticking to Lance’s messy signature on the bottom. “But why?” 

Lance looked out the window to avoid Shiro’s hurt eyes. 

“I messed up here and I want to start over,” Lance said. 

“Messed up?” Shiro asked. “Messed up how?” 

“I just did, okay?” 

“No,” Shiro said, and the intensity of it startled Lance. He was so used to Shiro’s soft, understanding voice that when Shiro used a more authoritative tone, it was hard to ignore. “It’s not okay. We’re your team and we’re here to help you. What is this about?” 

“It’s not anything that can be fixed! I’m just done with it all! I want to start over! I want to go home! I know who I am there!” 

“So be who you are, Lance. No one is asking you to change,” Shiro said, his voice slowly finding its way back to a gentle tone. 

“Yes! They are! You are! Or, I am, because of you. And Keith. This isn’t who I am!” Lance said, voice raised. 

“You’re changing? For me and Keith?” Shiro asked slowly, trying to understand where Lance was coming from. 

“I don’t date other people’s people, okay?” Lance began, turning back to Shiro. He looked hurt, and scared, and it broke Shiro’s heart. “I’m not that guy! I don’t want to be anyone’s side-piece and I don’t want to hurt anyone! But that’s what I’m doing, right? With you? And with Keith? I kissed Keith, too, you know. And I’m sorry! I didn’t want to hurt you, or Keith. I just, I don’t know what happened. But as long as you keep it a secret from him, and he keeps it a secret from you, I feel like I don’t have an out, like I owe you guys. And I don’t want to owe anyone anything if I’m not happy! I’m tired of being unhappy! So I’m going to turn this stupid paper into the office and get rid of all of my stupid decisions! Okay?!” 

Shiro sat back, blown away by Lance’s confession. 

Lance turned back to the window, his arms reaching up to wrap around his own shoulders. 

“Lance,” Shiro started, his voice soft and calm as ever. 

“What?!” Lance snapped, turning on Shiro with a fierce glare. Shiro couldn’t help but smile. It reminded him of Keith. It reminded him of how similar they were. Especially now, with this lapse in information, this lapse in communication. Typical. 

“I know,” Shiro said, and Lance could hear the smile on his lips. 

“You know what?” Lance asked, his face relaxing into confusion. 

“I know about you and Keith. He told me. And he knows about you and me,” Shiro answered. 

“W-what?” Lance asked. Shame and relief built up in him like conflicting storms. Had he been a joke? Was this the punch-line? Lance’s head felt foggy with confusion. 

“Keith told me, right after it happened. And I told him about us. I thought he told you that. That’s why he invited you over the other night. We were going to talk, the three of us. He didn’t tell you that?” 

Lance thought back, trying to remember exactly what Keith had said. But all he could remember was ‘don’t tell anyone.’ 

“He didn’t want me to tell anyone,” Lance said, jumping past Shiro’s question. “Why didn’t he want me to tell anyone if you knew?” 

“Maybe because he’s a private person,” Shiro began with a shrug, “but, probably because we hadn’t talked and he didn’t want to jump the gun. Didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

“So, what is this then? You guys just get to pick and choose when you want to hookup?” Lance asked. At the beginning of the year, that would’ve been a dream, but now, it made his mouth taste sour. He cursed himself for wanting more, always more. 

“I think we should go talk to Keith,” Shiro said, standing from the bed. “He’s around. It’s a nice day for a walk. He could meet us,” Shiro offered. 

Lance looked down at his clothes. His shirt was a day or two past due for a wash, and he wore pajama pants and no shoes. He knew his hair was messy and his skin was dry from skipping his nighttime skin routine. 

“I’ll meet you downstairs in 10,” Lance said, looking up at Shiro. “That okay?” 

Shiro nodded and stood from the bed. 

“Take your time.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different because there is only one scene in it, but its a big one, so I wanted it to be its own chapter. 
> 
> And don't worry, this isn't the last chapter, there's lots more to come!

It was 15 minutes later that Lance came running down the stairs and out the front door of the dorms. His hair was still wet, nearly dripping where it poked out of his blue beanie, but his face felt clean and he was changed out of his pajamas. 

Shiro was sitting at one of the few picnic tables that sat out front of the dorm, looking dreamy in the midday sun. Keith was already there, looking equally dreamy, like they were made in some kind of dream factory, a matching set.

They sat together, so comfortable with each other. They both had a leg on either side of the bench, their knees touching. Keith was picking a flower petal from Shiro’s mess of white bangs. 

When the door closed loudly, as was usual, they both turned to look at Lance. They both smiled at him, content, happy. Lance nearly tripped over his shoes. He stumbled and slowed down, blushing under their gaze. He tugged his beanie farther over his wet hair and then shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Hey,” he said, feeling shy around them. 

“You guys want to walk the park?” Shiro asked. He stood and nodded in the direction of the park that Lance had come to know quite well. Keith stood beside him, nodding. 

“S-sure, sounds good,” Lance said. He could practically feel butterflies trying to escape out of his mouth. 

They walked silently until they cleared the dorms. They all felt like they were being watched there, but the silence wasn’t exactly comfortable either. They all felt the pressure of not knowing who would speak first or what was going to be said. 

Finally, after crossing the street and getting their first glimpse of the park’s side entrance, Lance spoke. 

“So, what’s going on?” He asked and the purity of the question made both Shiro and Keith crack another smile. But Lance didn’t give. He had too many questions to be his happy-go-lucky self. “I’m not kidding,” he said, making their smiles disappear. “I want to know what’s going on. I mean, I kissed both of you. You both cheated, right? Or have you known all along? I don’t want to be the butt of some joke.” 

Shiro stopped short, Keith and Lance stopping a step in front of him. 

“Lance, this isn’t a joke,” Shiro said when Keith and Lance turned to him. “We weren’t playing a prank on you. I wouldn’t do that. We wouldn’t do that.” 

Lance thought back to Shiro’s past, how his life had almost been ended with careless with hazing, a dumb prank. He felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach for suggesting it, but then he pushed it away. He had a right to feel that way and if he felt it, he was going to tell them. No more secrets, no more hiding. If it wasn’t a joke, they deserved the truth anyway. 

“We want to date you,” Keith said and Lance felt his face turn red. 

“You, want to, what?” Lance asked. 

Keith’s statement had been out-of-place. It sounded too direct, too impulsive, too early. But that was Keith. He said what he wanted to say. Lance looked to Shiro who nodded. 

“You, you’re breaking up?” Lance asked. He felt like his own heart was breaking, though he wasn’t sure why. He tried to reason that it was because they were the squad’s power couple and probably incomparably perfect for each other in every way. Or, perhaps that it was guilt, because he’d broken them up. But, neither sounded right. It felt more like he was losing something before he’d ever had a chance to have it. 

His mind was whirling and it landed on another point. We want to date you. We. You. There were three of them. Were they making him choose? That was crazy. He couldn’t choose. They were too different, too together, too perfect. 

“We’re not asking you to choose,” Shiro said and Lance realized he must have been hypothesizing out loud. Shiro’s warm, scarred hand landed softly on Lance’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“We’re asking you to join,” Keith said, then, under his breath and through a smile, “idiot.”

Again, Lance looked to Shiro for confirmation and Shiro nodded. 

“Join?” Lance asked, eyes scanning between the both of them. “Is that a thing? Can you do that?” 

Keith and Shiro shared a look, shrugged, and turned back to Lance. 

“Why not?” They both asked in near synchrony. 

Lance continued walking, his head too full with everything he was being offered. Shiro and Keith fell into step on either side of him and soon they were stepping through the side entrance of the park. 

“I guess, it’s just not what people do,” Lance said with a shrug. It’s not all free-love and flowers anymore.” His eyes drifted over to Keith. “No matter how long you let your hair grow, Mullet.” 

“Ha, Ha,” Keith said. He rolled his eyes, but his hands snapped up protectively to grab at his long hair and tie it into a messy ponytail. 

“It’s not free-love,” Shiro said with a genuine chuckle. “It’s just, us. The three of us. If you want us, that is.” 

“Okay, so, the three of us,” Lance said, mulling it over, as if saying the words would suddenly make him understand the dynamic that a relationship like that would take. 

Lost in thought, Lance stepped off the park’s main path. His feet had made this path so often recently that the change from hard sidewalk to soft grass didn’t even cross his mind. Shiro and Keith shared a look but said nothing as they followed Lance’s path through a thicket of trees. 

As they approached the clearing in the trees where Lance had been spending so much time, Lance spoke again. 

“So, did you know I kissed Shiro before you told him that you kissed me?” Lance asked, his eyes trained on Keith. The question shocked them both. 

“M-ME? Kiss you?! You kissed me!” Keith snapped. 

“M-me? K-kiss y-y-you?” Lance mocked. “You know you made the moves on me!” Lance shot back. 

“No. He didn’t know,” Shiro answered, trying to stop their bickering before it truly started. 

“So, why’d you tell?” Lance asked. The question was open for either of them to answer, but Lance’s eyes lingered on Shiro. As he waited for an answer, Lance sat down and rested his back against the base of a tree. 

Here, they were hidden from the main path in the park. Keith slid down beside him and Shiro took a seat across from them. In the circle of trees, where no one could see or hear them, it felt more plausible. Walking on the path, past the playground and by couples holding hands, the idea of dating two people felt too strange. Here, it felt more natural. 

“Don’t make me say it,” Keith sighed, his face turning red. 

“Say what?” Lance asked, his face showing real confusion. 

“I’ll say it,” Shiro said with a smile. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his crossed legs. “We like you and Keith was brave enough to follow his gut.” 

And as sweet as it was coming from Shiro’s honest smile, all Lance heard was ‘Keith wanted you. I didn’t.” 

“So, it was Keith’s idea?” Lance asked and Shiro nodded. 

“Don’t give me all the credit,” Keith said, nudging Shiro with his foot. “We were both thinking about it. You just over-thought it.” 

To Lance, it felt like every concern that reared its head was clearing itself away with easy explanations offered by Keith and Shiro. Every time he felt uneasy about something Keith said, Shiro soothed it away. Every time Shiro made him think twice about the idea of them, Keith made that second thought a good one. 

Shiro and Keith had kept talking, teasing each other softly about Shiro thinking too much and Keith blurting out everything on his mind. Keith let his shoe knock against Shiro’s thigh in soft succession. Shiro, in turn, let his fingers trace patterns on Keith’s exposed ankle. It was all so. . . familiar. It made Lance’s stomach do flips. 

Here he was, with the two best people on the planet and they wanted to be with him. Even weirder, he was, for some reason, trying to trick himself into thinking he wasn’t the luckiest guy in the world. 

“Okay,” Lance said, cutting Keith off mid-sentence. 

They both stopped to look at Lance. 

“What?” Keith asked. 

Lance couldn’t help but notice that their motions had stopped, Keith’s foot resting against Shiro, and Shiro’s hand covering Keith’s ankle. 

“Okay, I want in. I want this. I want . . . you. Both of you,” Lance said. He could feel his face get hot. God, if this was a joke he was dropping out for sure. There would be no way for him to recover after telling the prettiest people in the universe that he liked them. 

“Really?” Keith asked in a surprised exhale. 

“Y-yeah, I think so,” Lance answered, his eyes sweeping over to Shiro’s. 

“That’s great,” Shiro said. “We should do something to celebrate.” 

With that, Keith leaned over to Lance, a warm hand sliding over Lance’s face and turning his head until their lips met. 

Lance felt himself blush even hotter. It felt strange knowing that Shiro was there, watching them. Even so, Lance’s eyes fluttered to a close, but Keith was pulling away too soon. It was just a chaste kiss, a small peck. 

“Like that?” Keith asked, his voice lower than before and his eyes moving teasingly to Shiro. 

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Shiro said, his eyes tracking Lance’s slow movements as he came-to after the sweet kiss. “I meant something more along the lines of a date. But, I like this too, as long as you do,” Shiro left this situation open for Lance to choose, and Lance found himself nodding dumbly. 

Shiro laughed, leaning closer until his nose was brushing against Lance’s. Lance let his eyes close and his lips part as Shiro got closer. Their lips were just about to touch when Shiro paused. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Shiro whispered and a jolt of electricity shot through Lance’s spine. He didn’t have time to process the compliment. He couldn’t overthink it, or reject it, because before he could even open his eyes in shock, Shiro was pressing their lips together. 

Lance couldn’t help himself, he pulled at Shiro’s shirt and touched the tip of his tongue against Shiro’s lips. Shiro accepted Lance’s deeper kiss on contact, letting his tongue meet Lance’s. 

It wasn’t long before Lance felt lips on his neck and the shock of pleasure caused him to jump, his lips popping away from Shiro’s. 

Keith adjusted to the slight change in position, letting his lips and tongue find their way back to Lance’s long neck. 

“Wow,” Lance said in a shaky breath. He tilted his head up, allowing Keith more room to kiss and lick. His eyes had fallen back closed and his breathing was getting heavier. 

“Alright,” Shiro said. He had pulled away to take a deep breath and shake his head clear. “Maybe we should, break this up. It’s not really the place.” 

And as much as Lance wanted to stay, he had to admit that Shiro was right. Although they were off the main path, they were still in the park, and anyone could come through the trees at any second. He tried to pull away from Keith, but Keith followed, pushing Lance to his back and crawling almost predatorily over Lance’s body. 

“Its kind of fun though, isn’t it?” Keith asked, his hot breath ghosting over the damp kisses on Lance’s neck. He punctuated his sentence with a sharp nip at Lance’s bottom lip and Lance found himself getting sucked back into the kiss.

“Guys,” Shiro said, his voice louder now, and they both looked up to see Shiro standing beside them. “Come on, seriously. Here’s not the place.” 

Keith groaned, rolling over onto his back beside Lance. 

“Fine,” he sighed, pushing himself up to his feet and then reaching a hand out for Lance who was still lying dazed on the ground. 

“Lance?” Shiro asked, a worried look on his face. 

“Oh, uh right,” Lance mumbled, taking Keith’s hand and standing between the two. 

Shiro pressed a soft kiss to Lance’s cheek as they made their way out of the clearing and back toward the main path. When he pulled back, he brushed a finger over a spot on Lance’s neck. 

“Looks like Keith’s already marked you,” Shiro laughed, pressing his thumb against the developing bruise.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! This chapter is out a day early because i'm going to be out of town for the rest of the week. Sorry it's kind of short, but the next one is going to be longer! (and juicier, wink wink) 
> 
> hope you enjoy it!

“Hunk would be appalled,” Pidge said. Her arms were stocked with cake mix boxes from the bargain bin. They were all a week or so old, but Allura was convinced that would be fine. 

“He doesn’t have to know,” Allura said, reaching for another box, carrot cake. “Would these be good?” She asked, turning the box to Pidge. 

“Different folks, different strokes, I guess,” Pidge said, though her nose turned up at the idea of a vegetable cupcake. 

“What?” Allura asked, the expression foreign to her. 

“If you put enough frosting on them, they’ll be fine,” Pidge answered and Allura nodded, adding the box to the tower in Pidge’s arms. 

Pidge, already bored of their shopping excursion, let her eyes wander. She rolled her eyes when a college boy stopped dead in his tracks at the end of their isle, eyes set on Allura. 

“Incoming,” Pidge warned, only to earn another confused look from Allura. 

“That’s a lot of cake,” the boy said, eyes cast below Allura’s waist, a predatory smirk gracing his features. His eyes scanned back up to her face, the creepy look never abandoning his stupid-looking face. “Your birthday?” He guessed, taking the box of cake she’d been studying out of her hands and looking at it himself. “Hope it’s your 21st.” 

“I’m not interested,” Allura said, taking the box back and continuing to read it. 

“Oh, come on, baby, let me give you my number. You won’t regret it.” 

The boy stepped closer, putting a hand on Allura’s waist. 

“Hey! She said she wasn’t interested!” Pidge said as Allura slapped the boy’s hand away. “Back off!” 

“Who’s this? Your little brother?” The boy scoffed. “Ditch the baby and come hang out with me, beautiful.” 

“Pidge isn’t,” Allura began, but Pidge cut her off. 

“It’s fine,” Pidge said. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

“Whatever, you’re not that hot anyway.”

The guy scowled as Allura and Pidge made there way out the other side of the isle. Even with her arms full, Pidge managed to turn and flip the bird to the boy, still sulking by the bin of old cake. 

“I don’t get it,” Allura said, continuing on toward the dairy isle. “Why didn’t you want me to correct him?” 

Pidge shrugged, the cake boxes in her arms shifting a little unsteadily. 

“I guess it just doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care if people see me as a boy or a girl,” Pidge explained. “I never really think of myself as either.”

“Oh,” Allura said. She seemed to mull it over as she placed a carton of eggs atop Pidge’s stack of cakes. “So, you don’t have a gender.”

Pidge’s hands tightened on the boxes in her arms and her head perked up in shock. That wasn’t what Pidge had said, but in truth, it was what she meant. To have someone else say it, for Allura to realize it almost on her own, was shocking. 

“I,” Pidge open her mouth to agree with, or maybe thank, Allura but the slide of an egg carton from the top of her tower ripped her attention away. Pidge reached to grab for it, only to allow a litany of cake boxes to fall to the floor with the carton. Eggs splattered from inside their flimsy shelter, yolk-goop seeping out onto the dingy tile floor. 

For a moment, Allura looked at the mess. She then shifted her eyes to some other shoppers as they strolled through the isles. 

“We should get a cart, I think,” Allura said with a smile, bending to help Pidge pick up the boxes. 

 

/ / 

 

Hunk sat on the bleachers, mouth hanging open in shock as he watched Lance prance around the gym. And there was no other word for it. He was prancing. Music played loudly from someone’s phone and he was jumping around, bopping from group to group and shaking his ass. 

Hunk had seen Lance bounce back before. But never like this. This was strong and fast, and, Hunk worried, too good to be true. But he wasn’t going to bite the hand that fed him. Lance was smiling and happy. For now, that was enough. 

Allura called the group to order. She welcomed Lance back with a smile and Lance, surprisingly, didn’t flirt in response to her kind words. Lance had to catch up with their routine but he picked up the changes quickly. He even nailed his and Pidge’s lift on the second try. No sweaty palms, no wobbly elbows. 

“Hey, you’re happy this morning,” Shay said, smiling at Lance as he danced around them during a break. 

“Yeah,” Lance said. “I am. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a beautiful day!” 

“What are you on?” Hunk said with a laugh. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there. We were practically ankle deep in puddles the whole way here.” 

And it was true. The weather had turned from sunny and warm to a rain-drenched mess overnight. To top it off, the air was cold and the dampness of the rain made it seem even more so. Even in the gym they could all here the rain pouring down by the bucket-full on the flat roof of the building. 

“Back in formation!” Allura called from across the gym and Lance trotted away, shrugging with a big smile on his face. 

They stood in their formation, most of the team centered on the mats. Two tumblers were on one side of the mats, Keith on the other. They were still trying to choreograph something mind blowing for their next performance, but at the moment they were mostly waiting around at the edges. 

Lance and Pidge, at the edge of the formation, were closest to Keith. Lance stared, smirking at his. . . his Keith. He didn’t know what that made them, but it gave him butterflies. He winked when Keith looked over at him. 

Keith rolled his eyes. He blushed brightly and had to fight a smile. Lance couldn’t fight his smile. Instead, he grinned toothily at Pidge. 

“What’s your issue?” She asked. “You know what? I don’t want to know. Just, don’t mess up the dance.” 

And then Allura was counting them in for the dance. 

Partway through, Lance felt something wet on his cheek. He tried to ignore it, but it was cold, and dripping down toward his mouth. He made sure his lips were tightly shut, not wanting whatever it was to get in his mouth. Then, something else rained down on him. This time, it was dry, a crumble of fine debris. Then, another wet drop. 

He couldn’t stop himself from looking up now. 

Above him, he noticed a long crack in the ceiling. Along the crack were water stains, some of which were holding heavy water droplets, just waiting to drop on the cheerleaders below. One spot, the one above Lance, had already begun dripping. And along the long crack, bits of plaster and ceiling dust were falling. 

He stopped dancing and his eyes followed the crack as it spread farther toward the edge of the room. It started small and damp, but as it stretched out, it looked downright dangerous, the ceiling dipping. 

He watched as a heavy spray of debris fell down, landing directly on Keith. He shook his head, trying to get the white dust out of his dark hair. 

“KEITH!” Lance yelled, his voice bringing the whole room to a halt. 

Keith looked up at Lance, then to where Lance was looking, just in time to see a huge fracture of the ceiling paneling beginning its heavy fall. 

Keith didn’t have time to move. The thud of air leaving his lungs as the panel clipped his right shoulder made both Shiro and Lance leap into action. Water poured in through the newly made hole in the ceiling, a hard, heavy waterfall that kept Keith down. 

Lance reached him first, dropping over Keith and letting the heavy torrent of water hit his back. It wasn’t heavy enough to push him down, but he could understand why it had gotten the better of Keith. It was hard and unexpected, not to mention Keith’s shoulder was gashed open, blood spilling out and dyeing the water around him pink. 

“KEITH! LANCE!” Shiro called, getting there a moment later as the surge of water began to slow to a near stop. 

Keith coughed below them it sounded wet and cold. Shiro dropped to his knees too, helping Keith to sit up. 

“I’m fine,” Keith said between wet coughs. “What the fuck happened?” 

“He’s fine!” Shiro yelled back at the rest of the cheerleaders who were frozen in shock. 

“The fucking roof collapsed!” Lance said. He looked back up at the ceiling. Even though the three of them were now soaking wet, they could still feel the heavy pelting of rain that came through the gyms new skylight. “We have to move.” 

Shiro nodded, standing and pulling Keith up gingerly with him. 

“You’re okay?” Shiro asked Keith. 

“M’fine,” Keith said. He brought his hand to his shoulder and hissed when his hand touched the tender cut. 

“Lance, you’re okay?” Shiro asked, pulling Lance up onto his feet too. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lance said. He watched as Shiro took Keith’s good side, supporting it even though Keith insisted he could walk just fine. 

“We should probably all get out of the gym,” Lance said, his eyes back on the ceiling. Although the breach in the ceiling had alleviated a lot of the pressure on the old gym, there was no telling what an old place like that was hiding. There could easily be more dips and cracks hiding just past the paint on the ceiling. “Just to be safe.” 

 

/ /

 

Allura sat in her car, the rain pelting down on her windshield. She’d let the rest of the team off early, what else could she do? They’d been washed out of her gym, they had no other facilities to practice in, and this weather didn’t exactly aid an outdoor practice. 

She sat with her forehead pressed against her steering wheel, eyes scrunched shut and phone pressed close to her ear. The faint sound of elevator music played into her ear, reminding her that she was on hold. 

She’d called so many of the university’s offices that she forgot who she was being transferred to. It shouldn’t have been this hard to get in touch with someone, anyone, who would care that the cheer gym had almost killed one of the students. 

She nearly screamed when the call cut off, the music ending abruptly and her phone screen returning to its usual pink background. 

Frustration filled her body, so much so that she felt like it was going to bubble right out of her. She slammed her palms against her steering wheel, setting off the horn, over and over. Then, she did scream, just once, loud and long. When it was finally out, she took a deep breath. In the calm after her own personal storm, she remembered what Coran had told her. That she needed to have fun. That she was working too hard.

She slumped back in her seat. She knew he was right, but relaxing, it wasn’t in her schedule. She had things to get done. Then again, the stress that the school was putting on her was going to be the death of her at this rate. 

She tapped her fingernails on her phone’s screen before letting out a defeated sigh and sending out a group text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm handling Pidge's (small) gender storyline okay. I'm just trying to tie together some loose ends from the beginning of the story, so it's not a main plot or anything, but I still don't want to offend anyone in anyway.   
> If i mess it up or could make it better, let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> For more frequent updates visit my tumblr ( courtneylej.tumblr.com ) 
> 
> And as always, let me know what you thought and tell me if I made any typos/errors!!


End file.
